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CHKISTIJSTE 


FROM THE FRENCH OP 


LOUIS .EINAULT 

VI ■ 


;; 





NEW YORK 

J. S. REDFIELD, PUBLISHER 
140 FULTON STREET ' 
1871 . 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in tlie year 1871, by 
J. S. REDFIELD, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 


Edwakd O. Jsnkins, 
PRINTER AND STEREOTYPER, 
20 North VrUHam Street, N. Y. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER L 

Stockholm in Winter— A Skating Seene— Introduction of the Principal 
Characters in the Story— Winter Sunsets in the North, .... 5 

CHAPTER n. 

A Fashionable Ball— Mme. de Rudden— Comparison of the Swedish with 
the French Women— A Waltz and a Supper— Supper-Table Confidences. 17 

CHAPTER m. 

Love’s Young Dream— A Chance Meeting— La Montde des Lions— A Dis- 
appointment, : 37 

CHAPTER IV. 

Absence- Correspondence, 40 

CHAPTER V. 

Chateau de Skokloster — A Surprise— A TSte-a-T^te— A Declaration— A Per- 
fumed Handkerchief— Leave-Taking, ........ 45 

CHAPTER VI. 

Correspondence— Letter from George .de Simaine to Henry de Piennes, at 
Munich— Christine de Rudden to Maia de Bjorn at Copenhagen. . . 59 

CHAPTER Vn. 

Christine Returns to Stockholm, . . 66 

CHAPTER Vm. 

Life at the Villa— Baron de Vendel— More Correspondence, .... 67 

CHAPTER IX. 

Christine— Love in a Cottage, 86 


4 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER X. 

Last Day at the Villa— A Parting— Return of the Major— Life at Stockholm, 88 


CHAPTER XI. 

An Entertainment— Nadeje— First Unfaithfulness — Reconciliation— Doubts 
and Uncertainties, 92 


CHAPTER Xn. 

A Wolf Hunt on Lake Maelar— Desperation of the Wolves— A Run-a-way— A 


Declaration of Love— The Return, 110 

CHAPTER XHI. 

The Ball after the Hunt— The Supper— The Dance— Correspondence, . . 123 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Gossip, and its Consequences, 139 


CHAPTER XV. 

A Wedding and a Souvenir— an Unknown Organist, 143 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Maia, Christine and the Major, 149 


CHAPTER XVn. 

The Beginning of the End— Interview of the Count and Mala— Death-Bed, . 153 

CHAPTER XVm. 


Conclusion, . 


169 


CHRISTINE 


CHAPTEK I. 

STOCKHOLM IN WINTER — A SKATING SCENE — INTRODUCTION OP 
THE PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS IN THE STORY — WINTER SUN- 
SETS IN THE NORTH. 

Lake Ma:lak,* whose long arms project in all 'direc- 
tions, affords a direct means of communication between 
Sweden and the Baltic Sea ; and, in the beautiful days 
of the winter season, it presents an interesting spec- 
tacle. Penetrating by its thousand inlets the recesses 

* Note by the Translator. — Some of the most interesting 
scenes in this story occur on this lake, and they may, perhaps, 
be better understood with the following description of it, taken 
from one of the gazetteers : 

“ It is very irregular in shape, and throws out arms which 
penetrate the land in all directions, giving its contour a very 
ragged appearance. Another remarkable feature is the vast 
number of islands which cover its surface. About 1,300 have 
been counted. Its breadth varies from two to twenty-three 
miles. Some of the finest buildings in Stockholm are upon these 
islands. Owing to the number of these islands the direct course 
of navigation is constantly changing, and it looks as if you were 
being carried, not across a lake, but along the windings of a 
beautiful river ; now narrowing so as to be almost enclosed by 
rocky precipices, now widening out and pursuing a majestic 
course between distant, fertile and richly-wooded shores.” 

(5) 


6 


CHRISTINE. 


of the great city, which is built almost on its waves, so 
soon as the cold December comes, it covers with a sea 
of solid and transparent ice, the boulevard de Gand^ 
the Hyde Park, the Bois de Boulogne, the Prater of 
Stockholm. It is the rendezvous of fashion for Sweden, 
and the stranger will see there in the space of a couple 
of hours, everything that is marvelous or elegant in 
this lovely capital. The beautiful gulf which here dips 
and curves towards the east is, for the city of Charles 
XII — this Yenice of the north — what the Grand Canal 
is for the city of the Doges. People assemble and 
promenade and skate on its bosom. All Stockholm is 
there from two o’clock until four p. m., as all Paris is, 
from four to six, at the lake or the cascade. 

On a bright afternoon in February, 184-, a sledge 
driven at great speed crossed la Place des Chevaliers^ 
on which they had not yet erected the statue of King 
Charles- John XIY., and leaving the noble palace of 
Riddarhaus on its right, dashed upon the lake at the 
point where one of its arms is inflected as if it would 
enfold the city in its embrace. 

Two young gentlemen, completely enveloped in furs, 
occupied the back seat of the sledge. 

“ How beautiful this is, chevalier ! ” said one 
of them, rising to get a better view of the vast 
extent of the scene ; “ it seems to me that I have, for 
the first time in my life, obtained an idea of whiteness ; 
this universal covering of snow attracts me, dazzles me, 
and attracts me again. It gives to the atmosphere an 
indescribable brilliancy ; I have never before seen such 
a pure light, which everything reflects, and nothing 
changes ! It is really beautiful.” 

Mon Dieu !” replied the other ; I know very well 


CHRISTINE. 


7 


that it is not equal to Pan's. I^othing can equal Paris, 
my dear count ! I admit, however, that this first coup 
d’odl is charming.” 

I know all the great cities of Europe,” replied the 
first speaker, and I declare to you that I have never 
beheld so magnificent a spectacle.” 

‘‘ Then I am happy that I have been able to offer 
you so agreeable a welcome on your arrival among us. 
You diplomatists are a little spoiled ; you cull the fiow- 
ers from every place you visit, and then take your leave.” 

The young man smiled, but did not reply. It is a 
prudent habit which never compromises any one ; he 
had learned it with a pupil of Talleyrand, when he first 
began his public career. 

The count’s name was George de Simaine. For a 
long time attached to the French legation at a small Ger- 
man court, he had now come as secretary to the ambas- 
sador to Sweden. He had hardly been two hours in 
Stockholm, when he had the good fortune to meet an 
old friend of other days, the Chevalier Axel de Yalborg, 
king’s chamberlain, who had been in the habit of visit- 
ing at the house of the count’s mother in Paris, Ma- 
dame la Marquise de Simaine, during the whole winter. 

Those who have never lived in northern countries know 
nothing of the new phases of life which each winter 
presents to them. For weeks the snow falls in thick 
and heavy flakes, or, rather, it is so abundant and so 
compact, that you do not really know whether it falls or 
not. You walk in the midst of a cloud of cold, float- 
ing down ; you are enveloped in a white whirlwind ; 
at every step you take it seems to contract around you, 
and to enlace you in its white and downy fetters. The 
ground under your feet is snow ; the sky above your 


8 


CHRISTINE. 


head is snow ; everything is snow ! There is no lon- 
ger in the world but one element, and that is snow I 
It is then that the traveler is to be pitied ; for instinct 
proves a better guide than reason, and he pushes his 
Avay only at great hazard and half-blinded : his horses 
hang their heads sorrowfully, and, not being able to 
distinguish their accustomed paths, proceed, as they are 
driven on, without knowing where ; if you stop, if you 
turn your eyes, if you allow yourself to be distracted 
even for a single moment, you will never recover your 
uncertain route ; you are lost ! Your ear, which seeks 
in vain for a vibration in this mute atmosphere, is 
frightened at the lugubrious stillness, the symbol of 
death. The snow falls noiselessly, and your footstep 
makes no sound ; only from time to time a raven flaps 
his sombre and heavy wings in the white space above, 
and measures, with a doleful croaking, the intervals of 
this painful silence. 

But after it has been snowing for a long time, when 
the plain, the mountains and the woods have received 
their winter’s costume, the scene changes its aspect. 
An immense covering of white is spread over the whole 
Yace of nature ; the valleys are elevated, the mountains 
depressed, and the whole country seems to be on the 
same dead level. Sweden is only one immense plain, 
unfolding from horizon to horizon, for flve hundred 
leagues, its infinite perspectives. When towards 
noon the fog, moved by a slight breeze, is dissipated, 
when nothing troubles the transparent blue of the 
ether, the sun shines with an incomparable bril- 
liancy upon the immaculate snow. There is I know 
not what of light gayety in the keen and dry air and 
the rays which burst upon the brilliant surface, pro- 


CHRISTINE. 


9 


jecting into the serene atmosphere a dazzling light. 
The scene changes when you enter the woods. The 
brown heads of the large fir-trees are powdered with 
hoar frost ; their long, dry and barren arms arrest the 
snow in its fall, and it rests upon the branches looking 
like so much wool torn from the fleece. The long 
needles of the pines are freighted with diamond crys- 
tallizations and icicled girandoles ; the sparkling gems 
of winter’s casket run from one tree to another, 
like the pendants of a constellated lustre reflecting a 
thousand fires on the faces of their prisms. In the 
environs of Stockholm these grand spectacles take 
on a character stranger still. Civilization, of which 
this elegant city is an ardent home, mingles with na- 
ture, and man animates with his presence the magic 
scene of the landscape. 

The day on which our story begins, the inhabitants 
of the entire city seemed to have come out upon the 
beautiful lake, whose dazzling ice was everywhere fur- 
rowed with sledges, and by skaters who were skimming 
over its surface in swarms. The little islands lying on 
the rocks, which during the season of spring resemble, 
in the distance, bouquets of flowers in their cups of 
granite and porphyry, gaily oppose the contrast of 
their deep verdure to the monotonous white of the sur- 
rounding plain. 

One of these islets, a quarter of a league from Stock- 
holm, w^as covered by a compact and somewhat noisy 
crowd. On the side of the city it was hollowed out in 
the form of a deep crescent, whose extremities were 
garnished with a double row of black firs and silver 
larch trees, interspersed with willows, their brown buds 
nestling on branches of a pale green. This little shel- 


10 


CHRISTINE. 


tered bay served as a favorite arena for the skaters, who 
vrere anxious to exhibit their grace and agility before 
an elite of judges, covered down to their eyes with fur 
caps, and up to their ears in fur capes. 

Several ladies descended from their sledges and, lean- 
ing upon the arms of their cavaliers, ornamented the 
front rank, and followed with an unquiet eye — as peo- 
ple with us follow the hazards of a steeple-chase — the 
movements of some half a dozen of these virtuosi^ who, 
in their games, described a thousand varying curves ; 
making arabesque figures, embroidering festoons, in- 
venting forms, and in the midst of their endless inter- 
twinings, rapidly tracing mysterious figures which they 
as rapidly effaced. A young ofl&cer of the guards, rosy 
and blonde as a cherub, particularly attracted the 
attention of the promenading belles. ITothing could 
equal the suppleness and the strength of his muscles 
of steel ; he slid through a thousand obstacles without 
ever discomposing himself, and passed through the midst 
of groups of people without touching the fur of a pelisse 
or brushing the basque of a dress. All at once, at the 
height of his enthusiasm, he stoj)ped, and, balancing 
himself on the heel of a single skate, by a series of 
precipitate whirls, he traced on the ice — which was all 
the time crackling with short and sharp cracks — a dozen 
or more circles of the same size, each intersecting the 
other with perfect regularity. A flattering murmur of 
applause arose on all sides, and the young man was 
saluted with a triple salvo of cheers. 

She is not here after all!’’ said the young man, 
stooping to whisper in the ear of the Chevalier Yal- 
borg. 

“ That is her sledge passing now,” replied the latter ; 


CHRISTINE. 


II 


‘‘ to tell the truth, I think it is empty ; but her horses 
have seen you, perhaps, and that is the same thing.” 

Hardly,” replied the other, laughing ; and he sprang 
upon the polished ice again. 

George had followed with his eyes the direction in 
which the two Swedes had looked. He perceived in 
the distance a sledge, apparently empty, which was 
rapidly going towards the north. 

As the sport of skating is not precisely a diplomatic 
amusement, the Count de Simaine found these exer- 
cises very interesting at first, to become sufficiently mo- 
notonous finally, and he demanded that they should 
continue their ride. The driver followed the same 
route the sledge he had just observed had taken. 

Soon a moving point on the horizon was seen ; some- 
thing black on the white snow. It was the same sledge, 
which was now returning. It approached with an un- 
heard-of rapidity, and they were able after a few mo- 
ments to distinguish the red harness of four black ponies 
of that race — the smallest in Europe, but the most in- 
trepid — who run with the wind. I am mistaken ; they 
bounded rather than run ; they threw up the snow with 
their feet until it enveloped them in a transparent whirl- 
wind ; their eyes sparkled like coals of fire ; their noses 
emitted clouds of smoke, and in rapidly throwing their 
heads up and down, they shook their thick and rough 
manes, which were covered with hoar frost. 

When the sledges met, neither party slackened his 
pace, and George was just able to perceive a woman, 
half-buried under a blue foxskin, who appeared to be 
still young. He could not distinguish her features, 
but in seeing her pass thus, in her rapid fiight, he re- 
membered the legend of the divinities of Walhalla, the 


12 


CHRISTINE. 


Valkyries^ beautiful and cold, wbo traverse the heav- 
ens, bearing in their arms the souls of their friends. 

Are we going much farther inquired M. de 
Simaine ; I am growing cold.” 

The Chevalier Yalborg replied only by a malicious 
look, and contented himself with whistling after a 
peculiar fashion — a wise economy of words in a coun- 
try where they might freeze in the air before arriving 
at their destination. However, they soon turned 
back. 

“ Who is this lady who saluted you with her hand 
asked the count of the chevalier. 

It is the Countess de Rudden ; they call her here 
the Countess Christine.” 

“ Who are they 

Every body.” 

They talk about her, then ?” 

Yes ; she is not an indifferent object to any one. 
You did not see her ; you would not be able to recog- 
nize her if you were to see her again.” 

‘‘ Do you believe it ?” 

“ I am sure of it ; and yet you are asking me who 
she is ?” 

“ Suppose I have not asked you anything about her, 
then.” 

“ Be it so ; but you must know that, if people do talk 
about her, it is not after the manner you would suspect.” 

But I swear to you that I did not understand it in 
any bad sense.” 

“ Madame de Budden is one of those ladies who 
have no enemies.” 

‘‘ It is thus that a man of the world should speak of 
all women.” 


CHRISTINE. 


13 


Yes ; but I speak sincerely.” 

“ And this officer of the guards who said ^ she — ’ ” 
He is one among a thousand aspirants. He counts 
for nothing.” 

‘‘ That is for her to say. But it may at least be per- 
mitted one to remark that your countess gives herself 
very strange airs ; to be riding alone in her sledge, 
drawn at a gallop on the snow by four little mon- 
sters like those. I take her for a great artist ; she 
understands marvelously well the mise en sceneP 
She ! she is the simplest woman in the world.” 

“ Chevalier, there is no such thing as a simple wo- 
man ; the most ndwe is more of a roue than ten men 
could be. But as we return, I am curious to see 
her.” 

That is precisely what I told you.” 

“ I do not understand.” 

You liave hardly arrived here and, like all the but- 
terflies of Stockholm, you are dying to burn your 
wings at this brilliant flame.” 

“ Do n’t be alarmed, my dear chevalier, it is a long 
time since I have had any wings to burn. They are 
of no use in diplomacy, we trim them as we do our 
moustaches.” 

“ Then there is less danger,” said Axel, laughing. 

The two young men were approaching the place 
• where the skaters were pursuing their sport. The 
piercing eye of George had already recognized the 
long and narrow sledge of the countess, and her island 
ponies, who were stamping the snow with their impa- 
tient feet. A little group of people already surrounded 
Mine, de Kudden. She perceived the two new comers, 
who were at some distance in the crowd. She cast a 


H 


CHRISTINE. 


careless glance at M. de Simaine, but recognized with 
a very cordial manner the Chevalier de Y alborg. 

George at first sight thought that she was about 
thirty years old, and handsome, but judged her cold, 
and a little haughty as well. Her complexion was of 
that kind of paleness which may be compared to ivory, 
but gave no hint of delicate health, and she had not on 
her cheek bones, as nearly all the fair Swedes have, 
those tufts of roses with which the intense cold adorns 
their cheeks. She had raised her veil and her brown 
and gold colored fillets of hair escaped from under her 
chapeau, and fell in soft waves down the whole length 
of a somewhat long face. Two large eyes of so deej) a 
blue, that at a little distance they seemed to be black, 
animated her face, which was very expressive even in 
repose. A large bouquet of azaleas was lying in her 
lap by the side of her muff. Every one who came np 
to speak to her expressed a respectful deference, and she 
showed towards all, that polite, graceful and dignified 
manner, which everywhere distinguishes the high-born 
lady. 

Shall I present you inquired the chevalier of his 
friend. 

I do not see the necessity.” 

“ You are afraid.” 

‘‘ Ho, unfortunately.” 

Why, unfortunately ? ” 

“ Because fear is the beginning of love, like wisdom ; 
and wisdom is a good thing ; so is love, too.” 

“ Come along, then.” 

“ Some other time you may demand this favor of 
Mme. de Rudden, . . . but here in the open air . . . 
where she could not well refuse. . . . Excuse me, 


CHRISTINE. 15 

clievalier; yon know tliat I am somewhat a stickler 
for form,” 

You are not yet accustomed to the simple manners 
of the people of the north. This will come by and 
by, and love also.” 

It was now three o’clock. The shades of night fall 
early in these high latitudes. The countess returned to 
her villa and the crowd followed as an escort, but 
George and the chevalier were not of the number. 
They drove on their own way, carefully noting the pe- 
culiarities of the place and of the people. 

Before them lay Stockholm, proudly reposing upon 
her three granite islands, between Lake Maelar and the 
Baltic, designing its elegant silhouette upon the pale 
sapphire of the sky. The spires of its churches, the roofs 
of its houses, the domes of its palaces reflected the rays 
of the setting sun, which were prolonged in trains of Are 
on the snow. Nothing can equal the splendor of these 
magniflcent adieux of the sun to the short days of the 
north. The immense body of flame descends by degrees 
and with a solemn grandeur. Arrived at the extreme 
border of the horizon, he hesitates, and stops, and then, 
even when he disappears, he seems so near, that you 
always suspect his presence ; the sky in the west as- 
sumes its most ardent tints, it is a radiant palette, 
in which the richest shades are continually dissolving. 
There are perhaps only two primitive colors, red and 
yellow, but they are so confounded and combined, as 
to present a warm harmony of the most radiant tones. 

This light, which is born in the horizon in the form 
of a deep purple band, dies away in the zenith 
in the midst of bright, orange flakes, which modulate 
the transition to a sombre azure ; now it changes froiq 


i6 


CHRISTINE. 


one tint to another, when suddenly it flashes up again 
and again, like a voice which is reflected by echoes, 
whose vibrations cross each other repeatedly in the 
sonorous air; sometimes one tint seems superposed 
upon another, whose immensity even seems to be re- 
doubled by the contrast ; sometimes^arge clouds pre- 
sent strange pictures ; chariots with glittering wheels ; 
thrones of gold ; palaces of fantastic architecture, 
crumbling under the wind, elevated upon the sea, 
mounting in the sky, and rapidly spreading themselves 
upon this resplendent foundation of gold and of fire. 
One can understand now, how it is that Odin, in the 
face of such subhme spectacles, places the paradise of 
heroes up among the clouds. 

However, the last rays vanish, the splendors are ef- 
faced ; the lilac tufts replace the bouquets of roses ; the 
fawn-colored tints of glittering gold succeed the delicate 
paleness of silver, and finally it is night’s turn ; night, 
serene and limpid, whose shadows reflect the brilliancy 
of pearls, variegated with the lacteal glimmer of opals. 

Greorge was a poet by nature, and this magnificent 
scene made an impression upon him, which he had never 
before experienced. He who knows himself best has 
always in his heart some secret corner, into which the 
light does not penetrate every day. And then unconscious- 
ly to him, the pensive look of the countess followed him 
everywhere ; he surprised himself even once or twice, 
thinking of her. But as, in his capacity of diplomatist, 
he cqnsidered that speech was given to man for the 
purpose of hiding his thoughts, he was careful even not 
to mention her name. 

The two friends habitually dined together at a club, 
and went to the theatre or the opera three times a week. 


CHRISTINE. 


17 


where they met the aristocratic society of Stockholm. 
George regularly scrutinized every box ; but he never 
saw the Countess de Rudden. 


CHAPTER II. 

A FASHIONABLE BALL — MME. DE RUDDEN — COMPARISON OP 
THE SWEDISH WITH THE FRENCH WOMEN — A WALTZ AND A 
SUPPER — SUPPER-TABLE CONFIDENCES. 

On the following evening the President of the House 
of Hobles gave one of the grandest routs of the season. 

George received an invitation, as a matter of course. 
He went in company with his ambassador. The balls 
of the fashionable world of Stockholm are very bril- 
liant. The Swedes call themselves the French of the 
Horth ; they love pleasure, and pursue it with an ardor 
entirely meridional. The company was large, and 
beautiful women were there in great numbers. George 
ran his eye over the moving squadrons, looking for 
Christine. He did not see her. He was young, and 
had lived too long in Germany not to love the dance ; 
he accepted, therefore, the civilities offered to him, 
and danced several times with some of the fashion- 
able ladies, who were made very happy for the oppor- 
tunity offered them of giving to a stranger a favorable 
idea of Swedish hospitality. 

Madame de Rudden entered while he was dancing a 
redowa ; she traversed the saloon with that air of gra- 


i8 


CHRISTINE. 


cious majesty which, never forsook her. George did not 
turn his head, but he watched all her movements in 
the mirrors ; he led his partner nearer to her, so as to 
get a closer view, and in doing so touched her dress. 
But Mme. de Rudden was only once seen in the crowd, 
which had become already a little noisy ; really distin- 
guished ladies never dance after they pass their twen- 
tieth year ; they leave this pleasure to those who have 
no other. She retired to one of those boudoirs dis- 
posed around the saloon, which serve as nooks for 
discreet conversation. Some gentlemen were gathered 
around her, and she became the centre of a little group. 
George soon discovered that Swedish redowas were 
very tedious, and when he finally conducted his partner 
to a seat, he approached the boudoir where the countess 
sat. She was arrayed in the Paris fashion, and was 
considered one of the most elegantly dressed women in 
Stockholm. 'No one knew better than she how to 
take a seat gracefully : a far more difficult act than peo- 
ple generally suppose. Crinoline was not yet known, 
and hoops of steel had not yet been worn to swell 
ladies’ skirts into Sebastopols of velvet and silk. But 
Christine had a particular mode of wearing her nu- 
merous and supple folds, and she gave an air of dis- 
tinction to the modern costume, so easily made ridicu- 
lous with badly dressed people. M. de Simaine had 
too good an eye for form not to make all these remarks 
at first sight ; with him the smallest things had their 
importance, and it was always through the eyes that 
these impressions were received. The countess wore, 
this evening, a black velvet robe, whose corsage was 
perhaps a little high, and half hid her shoulders, but 
revealed, in a striking manner, all the beauty of her 


CHRISTINE. 


19 


neck ; a little long, but gracefully posed and slightly 
adorned. It was at once magnificent and simple ; 
then it was chaste, as true beauty always is. The most 
seductive of all the graces is the grace of decency. 
"Women seem to forget it sometimes ; men, never. 

The countess was seated on a grand fauteuil, her 
head thrown back and partly turned, the better to listen 
to the conversation of the gentlemen around her. 
This pose, which seemed so natural, a coquette would 
have chosen, for it dis]3layed the intelligent beauty of 
her face to marvelous advantage. It was brilliantly 
lighted from above by a flood of light, which bathed 
her hair and played upon her transparent temples, 
growing fainter and fainter as it fell down the oval of 
her face. In following the ray of her eye, which 
seemed lost in a dreamy haze, one divined that she 
was made to be the recipient of heaven’s best favore. 

George stopped a moment on the threshold of the 
boudoir, and looked at her with the penetrating and 
sagacious eye of a man who has often looked at women. 

“ Well,” said the Chevalier Yalborg, who came up 
and joined him ; “ What do you say to her ?” 

“ She is truly beautiful !” 

And sensible.” 

That her husband would know.” 

“ She is a widow.” 

She has, then, all the recommendations.” 

Shall I present you ?” 

“ I have no objection. Be it so.” 

What coldness !” 

“ Upon my word, chevalier, do as you please ; but 
I never could endure your perfect women ! You tell 
me too much of this one.” 


20 


CHRISTINE. 


“ Believe only the half of it, then.” 

That would still be too much ; I am sure that she 
will be ridiculously spoiled and pretentious.” 

That is where you are mistaken ; she is as simple 
as she is charming.” 

Say at once that she is the eighth wonder of the 
world, and we will say no more about her. The or- 
chestra are playing a mazourka ; I am going to dance.” 

“ With her 

‘‘ hTo, truly ; with this little retrousse nose, who is 
pouting in the corner of the chimney.” 

“ I see,” said the chevalier, I was right yesterday, 
when I said you were afraid.” 

Whether it happen to a man or to a woman, in a 
quadrille or at an assault in the trenches, this word 
fear, in another’s mouth, sounds always badly in the 
ear of a Frenchman. George re-entered the boudoir, 
which he had already quitted. The men with whom 
the countess had been talking had retired, one by one, 
behind her fauteuil, and looking towards the door of 
the saloon, she perceived the two young men. Axel 
took his friend by the arm, and approaching Mine, de 
Budden, he presented M. de Simaine, according to the 
rules, and with the forms of the most ceremonious eti- 
quette. 

The countess received the new comer with the amia- 
ble grace which distinguished her, and with her fan 
indicated a seat to him, near to her own. Axel stood 
before them, and waited until the ice should be suffi- 
ciently broken ; then he recollected that he was engaged 
to dance, and he left George and the countess, tete-a- 
t^te, in the midst of the crowd. 

George was very cold ; the countess very reserved ; 


CHRISTINE. 


21 


it was necessary to pass quite through the hackneyed 
generalities, which are always the frivolous and worldly 
dB}ut of the most serious relations ; then by degrees, 
as if they mutually understood each other, they be- 
came confidential, and were on the most intimate 
terms. Conversation between them touched upon ev- 
ery subject, as will happen to people to whom a thous- 
and things are equally well known and familiar. 

George studied the face of the countess attentively, 
and appeared to admire her, perhaps a little too much. 

Do you know,” said she, ‘‘ that your praises are 
not fiattering ? They mark a certain astonishment 
which you express in spite of yourself. They say 
that at Paris you look upon us as barbarians, barba- 
rians of the I^orth. I have seen that stated in one of 
your fashionable books. You Frenchmen are so highly 
civilized !” 

“ Too much so, perhaps. But you are not wanting 
in this respect ; only you are different from us.” 

“ Will you explain the diffe*rence ?” 

“ At this moment I am taking notes, and it shall be 
the object of a memorandum that I shall address to the 
Great Powers, after dedicating it to you.” 

“ I am afraid I shall have to wait a long time, and I 
regret it for the subject seems to me piquant ; you have 
had the good fortune to travel enough to enable you to 
make comparisons. I have never quitted Sweden, and 
I do not regret it ; I only should like to see Paris. 
Are the French ladies really so handsome ?” 

“ Sometimes, but — ” 

“ There is a but, then !” 

“ Alas, yes ; their beauty nearly always has more of 
brilliancy than of charm, they lack a certain I know 


22 


CHRISTINE. 


not what of heart, which one finds only among the races 
of the North. Except in the case of a grand passion, 
rare everywhere, rare especially with them, their beauty 
shines for all the world like the sun at mid day.” 

‘‘You seem to me to be a subtle casuist in such 
matters, and I should like to know what you think 
of ” 

“ The Swedish women ?” 

“ Oh, a general opinion.” 

“ Yery well,” said George, “if you will permit an 
astronomical comparison, I should say that on this side 
of the Baltic you are more often beautiful in the 
fashion of those bright stars, which rise at midnight and 
keep their sweet rays for two solitary eyes.” 

“ You are a poet, count.” 

“ Alas no, madame, I am a diplomatist.” 

“ You illustrate with a happy image, an idea too 
fiattering perhaps for my compatriots. I do not know 
if it be true, but I wish it were.” 

“ However,” said George, looking at her in such a 
way as not to dissimulate his admiration, “there are 
beauties so radiant, that it would be perhaps unjust to 
reduce them to the simple role of stars ; they would 
have a right to complain.” 

“ They would certainly not be reasonable then, for 
it would be difficult even for a woman to ascend 
higher.” 

“And then,” said George, raising his eyes, “these 
chaste stars might often have more than one worship- 
er!” 

“ And they know nothing of it !” replied Christine, 
smiling. 

“ That is an additional misfortune, madam.” 


CHRISTINE. 


23 


“ For whom ? the stars 
N’o ; for those who are gazing at them.” 

A cloud passed over the face of the young diplo- 
matist ; melancholy took possession of him, and he 
appeared to abandon himself to a profound reverie. 

‘‘ Do your observations stop here demanded Chris- 
tine ; “ I regret it, for you have interested me.” 

‘‘I have always thought,” he replied, “that the 
women of your country understood even more than 
was expressed.” 

Christine turned towards him with an open and frank 
expression of face, her eyes rested a moment on those 
of the young man, then she turned away with an 
expression of uncertainty and annoyance, ^^othing in 
the 'world was less capable of pleasing her than a 
hackneyed compliment; the small coin of gallantry 
was not receivable with her. One gets on more 
rapidly at Paris than at Stockholm. The countess 
knew it and put herself on her guard. It was useless, 
she was not attacked. George was sometimes a little 
free in his conversation, but he knew when to stop ; 
and this was evidence of that supreme tact which a 
good knowledge of the world alone can give. 

The music from the orchestra was now heard in the 
boudoir, and M. de Simaine profited by the occasion to 
interrupt the current of ideas which perhaps was carry- 
ing the mind of Christine away from him. 

“ You dance, madame ?” said he, resuming his light 
and gay manner. 

“No longer.” 

“ Is it a resolution ?” 

“ Confirmed.” 

“ Will you not change it ?” 


24 


CHRISTINE. 


“ I think not.” 

Is it because 

“ Go on.” 

I have a desire to waltz.” 

“ Ah, the reason is good,” said Christine ; “ but there 
are the three daughters of the Austrian ambassador, 
they dance like Peris — or like Germans.” 

I should prefer to dance with a Swede.” 

“Truly, here comes the pretty Mina de Welfen; in- 
vite her, and you will secure her happiness.” 

“I should like much better to insure my own. 
Countess, it is with you that I should like to have the 
honor to waltz.” 

The orchestra was just finishing the prelude to the 
Invitation by "Weber, which was then making a furore 
in Stockhohn as well as in Paris. The countess got up, 
and without saying a word, put her hand in that of the 
count. Two couples passed them waltzing, and George 
and Christine followed them, and entered the vortex. 

“I believe I have forgotten how,” murmured the 
countess as she took the first steps. 

“Have confidence,” whispered George in her ear, 
and taking a firmer hold of her they whirled on. 

Oh, waltz ! poetry of motion ! rhythm of harmoni- 
ous movement ! hymn of seduction, written in stanzas 
of graceful attitudes ! Oh, waltz ! charm and enchant- 
ment! Werther was right to curse thee, and the 
preachers are not wrong in prohibiting thee ! 

But Werther has saved nobody and every body does 
not heed the preachers. 

George and Christine waltzed. Christine possessed 
a graceful and dignified manner which never forsook 
her. The waltz seems made to give occasion to 


CHRISTINE. 


25 


woman to display to their best advantage all those 
graces which, in repose, one merely suspects her to 
possess. The young man seemed to devour her with 
his eyes, and admire her elegant and supple figure 
which bent under his arm ; her hand a little long, but 
so delicate that it disappeared in his own ; those fine 
shoulders which the movement of the waltz sometimes 
confused with the shadows, and sometimes revealed, all 
quivering under the blazing light. However by degrees 
the piercing music, the brilliancy of the lights, the 
excitement of the waltz, the contact of the splendid 
form against his chest, the vague perfume exhaled from 
her hair ; all contributed to throw around the mind of the 
count a sensation which, for a long time, he had not felt. 

Since they had been waltzing he had not exchanged 
a word with his partner. He wished to break the 
silence which was becoming embarrassing, and he now 
for the first time looked upon her face. The animation 
of the dance had in some sort transfigured it. A half 
smile lurked lightly upon her lips, like a bird that flut- 
ters without alighting ; her cheek naturally pale, wore a 
delicate carmine color, as if the rose of youth had 
blown upon it all at once. She knew he was looking 
at her, and raising her dark eyelids, she turned towards 
him her large eyes which seemed to be swimming in 
the divin;j joy of ecstasy. She was really above any 
common-place phrase more or less elegantly worded. 

La vulgar compliment would have sounded like a false 
note in her earj George understood it and was silent. 
As he led her to a seat he said, ‘‘Weber is a great 
and noble genius, and no one, to my mind, has inter- 
preted better the sentiments of the heart. His music 
is like the sighing of the soul.” 


26 


CHRISTINE. 


Is that the reason you cannot talk when they are 
playing it 

^^Yes/’ he replied, “it is precisely because it ex- 
presses so well what I feel, that I am restrained from 
interrupting it.” 

Christine resumed her seat. 

“ It is said,” said she, “ that the French speak a 
little lightly of serious things.” 

“ I do not know,” he replied ; “ it is a very long time 
since I have lived there.” 

Some friends of Christine were now approaching her, 
and George saluted her profoundly and reentered the 
dancing saloon. 

“ In truth, countess,” said a gentleman of forty or 
more years, who came to take her hand at the moment 
when M. de Simaine took his leave of her ; “I have 
never seen you look so beautiful as you do this evening. 
You beauty is becoming alarming.” 

“ For whom ?” 

“ For me.” 

“ It is so long that you have been uneasy.” 

“ Alas !” 

“ You have no reason. I am no coquette, as you 
know very well.” 

“ Unfortunately.” 

“ Why «” 

“ Because, then you would have a fault.” 

“ Baron, you are becoming very . . . Frenchy.” 

“ Is this a compliment, or an epigram ?” 

“ I do not make epigrams, and I do not like compli- 
ments.” 

“ I make you no compliment when I tell you that 
you never were so handsome.” 


CHRISTINE. 


27 


Yeiy well ; so mucli the better !” said she, laughing. 

I wish to be.” . . . 

Ah, countess, ho has only just arrived !” 

“ Foolish man ! ” said Christine, hiding a furtive 
blush behind her fan. 

‘‘My poor friend !” replied the other, with a shade of 
melancholy, “ you do not yet know how to lie.” 

“ That will come by and by, perhaps,” said she, 
laughing, but without looking at her interlocutor, 
“^^^ow will you be so kind as to order my sledge 

“ Do you know, my dear count,” said the Chevalier 
Yalborg, passing his arm through that of his friend ; 
“ that you make conquests rapidly ?” 

“ I do not understand.” 

“ Dissembler !” 

“ Giddy head!” 

“ It is three years, count, since she has waltzed.” 

“ Behold a proof!” 

“An evident one.” 

“ If she has not danced, it is because she has not been 
invited.” 

“ She refuses us.” 

“ Then it is your fault.” 

“ And a half hour tete-d-tete P 

“ In a ball-room !” 

“ The favor was all the more precious !” 

“ Why did you not take part in it ?” 

“ Where would have been my hospitality ? I took care 
of that ; besides, the countess would never have pardoned 
me ; nor you either. But in truth, how do you like her ?” 

“ She is charming.” 

“ Adorable, ray dear count, a diamond without spot !” 


28 


CHRISTINE. 


‘‘ITo; rather a pearl, she has the sweetest glimmer 
of that.” 

“ Be it so ; but speak low ; there she is !” 

The countess was, in fact, just crossing the saloon 
on the arm of the gentleman who had called her sledge 
for her. 

Who is that with her ?” inquired the count. 

“It is Major Baron de Yendel; fifty years old, but 
with a warm heart ; a little rough, but perfectly ac- 
complished ; he is a friend of the family.” 

“ Ah 1” 

“ Hot as you understand it.” 

“ A cousin, perhaps?” 

“ Ho ; an aspirant, but with a good motive, as you 
say in France ; a true hero of romance, however ; a 
delicate and chivalrous soul. He would throw himself 
into the flames for the countess. He has just come 
from a campaign in the Duchies where he has earned 
glory, two wounds and a decoration, in fighting as a 
volunteer against Denmark.” 

The countess at this moment passed the two young 
men who were talking in the embrasure of a window. 
They bowed to her. The major saluted them haughtily ; 
under his look, George quickly resumed his hauteur. 
But Christine’s eyes rested on his, and he saw only her. 
She smiled sweetly on the Chevalier Yalborg. 

“ There goes a smile,” said the chevalier, “ which 
has mistaken its address. All is going well, decidedly ; 
you were born under a lucky star,, my good fellow !” 

“ I do n’t know anything about that,” said George ; 
“but I cannot get sentimental after midnight. Can 
one get supper in Stockholm ? I should like to drink 
a bottle of French wine to the health of the Swedes.” 


CHRISTINE. 


29 


And of t'he/b^V Swedes 1” 

“ That is understood.” 

iTothing is easier. Wg have here our Cafe de Pa/ris^ 
called so, because it is kept by a German and frequent- 
ed by the English. It is in the rue de la Peine, not 
far from tbe palace of the fair lady ; for we have a 
palace, my dear count.” 

Yery, well chevalier ; I invite you to supper.” 

I accept.” 

“ On the sole condition that we do n’t speak of her.” 

“I shall be careful not to disobey you.” 

“ Andiamo .'” 

The two young men descended gayly the principal 
stairway, covered with a carpet and planted with fir- 
trees on the branches of which hot-house flowers had 
been hung to give them the appearance of exotics. 

Wrap yourself up warmly,” said Axel, as they passed 
out of the door ; ‘Gt is an hour after midnight, we shall 
have bridges to cross, it is excessively cold outside, and 
my sledge is not covered.” 

Andiamo repeated George, humming the deli- 
cious air which Mozart has put into the mouth of 
Zerlina and of Mazetto ; and threw himself on the bot- 
tom of the low uncovered sledge, as the chevalier had 
truly called it. 

The horses, noiseless as phantoms, drew the sledge 
along rapidly over the hardened snow. On each side 
of them the black houses seemed to be running swiftly 
by ; and the moon, all white, was laughing through the 
gray clouds. A gust of cold wind notified our travel- 
ers that they were crossing the little river of Horrs- 
trom and passing the baths of Kosen. They soon 
entered the long rue de la Peine, In about five 


30 


CHRISTINE. 


minutes the foaming horses stopped before the restau- 
rant of Hans Bamberg, lighted up like daylight. The 
landlord was honored with the confidence of the fash- 
ionable world, and never closed his house on the nights 
of the balls. The two young men crossed — between 
two rows of resinous torches fixed on the walls in rings 
of iron — a little vestibule garnished with trees with 
green branches, and ascending the twenty steps of a 
wooden staircase, they found themselves at the doorway 
of the common saloon. 

“ Horra, give us a private room,” said Axel, taking 
a very pretty waiter girl by the chin, who came to wait 
upon them ; ‘^it is possible, 1 hope,” he added, tapping 
her familiarly on the cheeks. • 

Everything is possible for the chevalier.” 

“ Even to preventing you from having lovers ?” 

“ That is easiest of all !” said she, courtseying pro- 
foundly. 

‘‘ I do not believe a word of that, you baggage ! but 
no matter, that is your business, let us have supper !” 

“ What will you have, monsieur 
What have you ? oysters ?” 

‘‘ The chevalier must be joking ? It is now three 
months since the oysters have been frozen up at the 
bottom of the sea.” 

“ That is true ; well, give us whatever you have and 
some Champagne Cliquot ! You see, my dear count, 
that you must come to Sweden to find the genuine 
French wines !” 

“ It is not yet iced, chevalier.” 

W ell, my child, open the window and it soon will be.” 
Horra w^ent dowm to order the supper. 

“ Ho you know, my dear Axel,” said George, taking 


CHRISTINE. 


31 


Ills seat, “that being served in this manner at table 
by beautiful girls, makes Sybarites of you 

“ My dear count, we like girls in these p’laces better 
than boys, which is your custom; nothing displeases us 
so much as man servants ; women are better, their 
hands are lighter, they are quicker to perceive and 
to act, are more graceful and delicate. I am always 
tempted to laugh at your valets de pied^ robust fellows, 
carrying in their arms a porcelain plate or a verve 
mousseline. And I tell you, that I like for a coup 
d^ceil^ to see these pretty creatures in short petticoats 
and colored waists passing and repassing before me; 
a little bonnet lying jauntily on the head, — a love of a 
bonnet, a strip of velvet and a bit of lace above the 
chignon — and a wide-awake eye ! Yes, I like these 
far better than your solemn looking lacqueys, buried in 
their cravats.” While Axel was talking he was in- 
terrupted by a knocking at the door. 

It was Norra returning with another waiter who 
brought the wine and dishes. They seemed like a 
couple of elfs escaped from this wintry province of 
Bleking, in whom the red blood runs under the softest 
satin skin. In two minutes supper was served. 

“ Please, gentlemen, if you want anything more to 
knock twice on the glass, and l>on appetit^'^ and the 
two waiters left the room. 

Axel carved a wild fowl, something like a large 
pigeon, whose flesh was white and savory, the odor 
from which excited the appetite for both food and 
drink. George opened a bottle of wine, and filling the 
glasses, and handing one to his friend, said ; 

“ To the health of our lady loves !” 

“ Wait avfliile.” 


32 


CHRISTINE. 


‘‘ For what 

“ The second bottle.” 

“ Then let ns dispatch the first.” 

The supper was good, the spirits of both kinds flowed 
freely, and the young men were joyous companions. 
However, George spilled more than he drank, he was 
one who would rather be silent and listen. Axel on the 
contrary preferred to talk; he did not wait for the 
third glass in order to begin his confidences. 

“ Pardieu !” said he, “ do you think I do not see 
through you ? You dare not ask me, and are dying to 
have me understand. You need not button yourself up 
so, even to your chin, and carry about the air of the 
chancellerie ; we are not here in Congress assembled.” 

“ I never ask questions.” 

“ But you always listen.” 

That is a little in my way of business.” 

^^And in that w^ay you profit by the benefits of 
silence and the indiscretion of friends. Do you count 
as nothing the pleasure of talking ?” 

“Well, what would you like to know ?” 

“ Whatever you are pleased to tell me.” 

“ Well, then, you must know that the countess — for 
it is of her that you wish me to speak, I imagine ” 

“ Yes, executioner ; but why are you so fond of keep- 
ing me upon the coals ?” 

“ At last, there is a cry from the heart ! and it will 
cost you more than tw'o bottles of Cliquot. Know then, 
that the countess is .an angel — ” 

“ Have a care, chevalier ; you are falling into the 
beaten track !” 

; “ the countess is an angel, who was long ago 

coupled with a demon.” 


CHRISTINE. 


33 


“ Her liTisband. I know it ; all histories begin so.” 

‘‘Then I will abridge it. The Count de Kudden 
was a miserable lord, to say no worse of him, and be 
merited all the misfortunes wbicb happened to him. 
In fact, after five or six years of this hell upon earth 
that they call ill-assorted marriages, the count died. 
It was the first act of politeness he had ever shown 
towards his wife. He left her young, rich and beauti- 
ful, and with a memory of past unhappiness which a 
great many would be very glad to help her to forget. 

“ The countess is frankness itself. She made no pre- 
tensions to a grief she did not feel. Eut she wore the 
deepest mourning and observed the customs of good 
society closely ; she quitted Stockholm, passed eight- 
een months in retirement on her estates, and then 
returned here and opened her saloons, which soon be- 
came the most agreeable in the city. M. de Eudden 
would have been astonished at the metamorphosis, but 
he had the good sense not to come back. However, 
his widow was sought in marriage by every one who 
had any claim to be ranked among her admirers, and 
even by others. One wanted her for her fortune, 
another for her beauty, a third for the support of 
family alliances, for she is of the family Oxen-Stjerna, 
and is connected with all that is powerful in the 
country. Christine accepts no one, she has never loved. 
But her repulsed lovers became in turn her most de- 
voted friends. Can anything be said more to her praise 
or their’s ?” 

“ And you, chevaher ?” 

I, my dear count, without doubt, should have 
done as the rest have done, but I was in France when 
Mme. de Kudden returned to Stockholm, and on my 
2 * 


34 


CHRISTINE. 


return I found her so strongly intrenched in her im- 
pregnable position of widowhood, that I resolved to be- 
gin where the others left oif.’’ 

‘‘ And to finish where they began 

but to content myself with friendship, without 
passing over to love.” 

. That is, they say, the shortest and surest road. The 
beautiful widow could not have taken your discretion 
in good part. I know from my large experience.” 

“ How old are you, my dear George ?” 

Twenty-six years, mon amiP 

Axel laughed. 

— But years in the country count double !” replied 
the count." “ Yes,” he continued, women who de- 
fend themselves the best, like to be attacked, if it were 
only for the opportunity of defending themselves ; 
they like to refuse ; but they would not like it if they 
were not asked.” 

This may be true in Paris ; it is coquetting ; and 
here we do not understand all these subtil ties. You 
may be certain that you do not judge Mme. de Bud den 
fairly. She is entirely free from artifice. I have al- 
ready said, she is simplicity itself. She is too good to 
be gratified at the spectacle of the unhappiness she has 
been the cause of, and is too much a stranger to all the 
calculations of vanity to draw after her a cortege of 
captive hearts. I repeat, you do not yet know her. 
Her nature is unlike that of any one else. The day when 
she loves, she is the woman to declare it frankly, and 
she will place her hand unhesitatingly in his whom she 
chooses. Oh, he will bo a happy man, and I drink to 
his health !” continued the chevalier, clicking his glass 
against that of the count. 


CHRISTINE. 35 

George had become very serious. He touched 
glasses but did not drink. 

“ And this major, this Baron de Yendel,” he inquired, 
who is he 

He is the countess’s best friend ; he has been pas- 
sionately fond of her for ten years, or rather, he loves 
her. Oh, that is nothing, your eyes need not look so 
like firebrands. However, the choice of a man like 
the major could only be flattering to her ; it justifles 
your preferences. The baron makes no boasts, does 
not hide his sentiments, and all the world respects 
them, they are thought to be so sincere. Christine is 
sa dame, as our fathers say, and our fathers said well. 
He has a chivalrous worship for her, like that of the 
cavaliers of the middle ages; he would die for her 
with his colors on his breast, "thoughts of her in his 
heart, and her name on his lips.^ Cheer up, my dear 
count, one does not come acros^ such an opportunity 
as this every day ! Christine knows it, and makes no 
secret of it. But he is flfty years old, and every six 
months has to let out one buckle-hole in his belt. He 
has neither the age nor the figure with which he could 
sing Je sms Lindor^^ under the window of his Bo- 
sina. However, the baron takes no airs upon himself, 
and thereby escapes. the ridicule which is usually visited 
on antiquated lovers. He desires everything, does not 
hope, and asks nothing. He said to her, one day : ‘ You 
are to-day younger than I am, but in ten years we shall 
be more nearly of the same age.’ This brave major 
reasons thus : ‘ I have no right to be impatient ; I 
should have no excuse. I will wait as long as you 
please ! always I if you wish it. Behold me, your 
slavCj you knqw wherq I am ; there I shall remain. 


3 ^ 


CHRISTINE. 


You have only to make me a sign, and eveu this is use- 
less ; I believe I should anticipate your wishes without 
that.’ 

“ ^ Let us be friends, then,’ replied Christine, ‘ for I 
value no one more highly than I do you.’ 

“ And thus they live in the moonlight of friendship, 
which no cloud has ever obscured. It is said that 
Christine has promised that she will never marry again, 
or that she will never marry anyone but him. The 
major does not say so ; but it has been said in his pres- 
ence, and he contented himself with responding with a 
deep sigh. You see. Monsieur ambassador, to what 
point we have reached, and it is very probable that all 
this will afford you food for thought.” 

“ I think the marquise is a most charming woman, 
and that the major will some day be the happiest of 
husbands.” 

I do n’t imagine that you believe the half you say ; 
but that is a great deal, and time will teach us the 
conclusion of this story. It is four o’clock ; I do n’t 
hear any noise ; the guests have all departed ; perhaps 
you would like to dream a little alone ; let us go.” 

itlorra, who was sleeping on her post, on being 
awakened, presented them with their bill, and the two 
young men were the last to leave the fine establishment 
of Hans Bamberg. Axel left George at the door of 
his hotel on the grand ^plaoe du Stortorget^ the finest in 
Stockholm, and after having wished him golden dreams, 
pursued his way to his own home, humming an air of 
the opera. 


CHRISTINE. 


37 


CHAPTEE III. 

love’s young dream — A CHANCE MEETING— LA MONTEE DES 

LIONS — A DISAPPOINTMENT. 

CiMiPAGNE wine, after a ball, has not the narco- 
tic virtues of opium or liaslieesb. George slept fitful- 
ly, and if be dreamed at all, be did so while he was yet 
half awake. The image of the fair Christine was always 
present to his half-closed ej^es, passing and repassing be- 
fore him; he was still listening to the prelude of the waltz 
of Weber ; he still held against his breast a beautiful, 
yielding and trembling figure ; he was still breathing 
the sweet perfume of mimosa, which was exhaling 
several hours before from her fan and her handkerchief, 
and his face was burning. Then all at once he experi- 
enced a sensation of cold, he thought he was on the 
Mselar with the endless snow-plain spread out before 
him : the black ponies, Christine in the sledge, passed 
him like the wind, and she extended her arms to him. 
He rushed towards her, and at the moment when he 
was about to reach her, the major’s epaulettes barred his 
way. 

The morning prolonged the agitations of the night ; 
his servant came and went through his chamber, mak- 
ing the fire, bringing the sugar, preparing the tea, and 
waiting for orders which were not forthcoming. The 
sun was as lazy as George this morning he forgot to 
rise; at mid-day it was not yet daylight; Stockholm 
was shrouded in a dense fog, and the count passed the 


38 


CHRISTINE. 


rest of tlie day in arranging his papers and in putting 
his office in order, and did not go out. 

The day following, the weather was smiling, the sky 
blue, and every thing tempted him to go out. He called 
for the magnificent team and sledge which the Chevalier 
Yalborg had tendered him, and went out on the road 
to Haga, the Saint Cloud of Sweden ; which is the 
fashionable drive frequented by the best people. As 
he returned to the city it was just twilight, and he met 
another sledge going out. The frost on the windows 
of his sledge obscured his vision, and he only saw in- 
distinctly a form half-buried on the cushions. He saw, 
however, that it was a woman ; but nothing more. Ar- 
rived at the little church of Saint Clara, situated near 
the centre of the rue de la Beine^ George gave the ad- 
dress- of the countess to his coachman, who drove to her 
hotel and rang the bell. Madam is not at home !” 
responded the concierge^ an honest Dane who had been 
made a Swiss, and on whom on great occasions they 
buckled a halberd and a baldrick. 

George got out of his sledge and presented his card. 

When the countess is at home for any one, she 
is at home for all !” replied the same official, with 
the majestic solemnity of an incorruptible guardian. 

To the chateau !” said the count, to his driver, 
brusquely. 

The horses went off upon the gallop, and crossing 
la jplace de Gmt(we-Adolphe et le du JVord, 
stopped, covered with foam, at the foot of the Montee 
des Lions, a gigantic staircase to which the lions of 
Charles XII. seemed to forbid access. The sentinel 
and the driver exchanged a few 'words ; then the sledge 
entered the grounds, traversed two courts and I'eached 


CHRISTINE. 


39 


the small terrace des Lynx^ disposed in parterres and 
garnished with bouquets of trees. The Baron de Yen- 
del was promenading there with the son of the minister 
of war. The major had a care-worn air ; George avoid- 
ed him and inquired for the Chevalier Yalborg, and 
was told that just then he was busy in his own room. 
George wrote in pencil on his card ; I want you ; 
come to me. They say you will be at liberty at eight 
o’clock ; I shall be waiting for you from seven.” 

He then went to a reading-room ; he found the 
newspapers dull, politics absurd, and the feuilletons 
annoying; and finally, not knowing what else to do, he 
dined, to kill the time, and returned home. 

At ten minutes after eight he heard a ring at his door, 
which made him jump from his seat. 

It was the chevalier. 

‘‘ Axel, I thank you,” said he, extending his hand ; 
“ I had great need to see you.” 

I have no doubt of it ; here I am !” 

Again I thank you.” 

‘‘ What do you know already ?” 

“ Hothing. What is there new ?” 

Have you seen the countess ?” 

“Ho.” 

“ Have you called on her ?” 

“Yes; but was not received, and I am in a very bad 
humor.” 

“ At what hour did you call there ?” 

“ At four o’clock.” 

“ She had already gone away.” 

“ Gone away ? Why, the major is still here.” 

“ Count, you have no right to speak thus. It is a 
gi’atuitons injury which is not permitted to any one 


40 


CHRISTINE. 


witli US. Some day you will repent using sueli lan- 
guage.” 

“ Be it so ! I repent it already ; but pray tell me 
where has she gone ?” 

To TJpsala, to see her uncle, who is very ill. The 
news came at two o’clock ; she went away at three.” 

And . . . w’hen does she return ?” -- 

“No one knows.” > 

“ Upsala, is it far from here ?” 

“ Thirty or forty leagues.” 

“ I can go there.” 

“ Yes ; if you wish to lose her.” 

“ Axel, I begin to think I am in love.” 

“ It is evident that you will adore her, especially ii 
she should not return.” 

“ My dear Yalborg, you are too witty for me.” 

“ Pshaw ! do n’t distress yourself ; I will get you news 
from her.” 


CHAPTEK lY. 

ABSENCE — CORKESPONDENCE. 

Christine did not return to Stockholm during the 
winter. I would not assert that the chevalier was right 
in saying that it was alone because of her absence, 
that George would come to adore the countess ; but he 
certainly thought of her very often. 

The Count de Simaine was young, he was not yet 
thirty years old; but he had already lived some seven 
or eight years in the fashionable world. He had known 
the best society in Europe, and had passed several 


CHRISTINE. 


41 


winters in tlie most celebrated capitals, more renowned 
for their elegance than for their morality. Elegant, 
distinguished, spiritual and discreet, he had never en- 
countered many disappointments in his relations with 
women. 

The facility of pleasure is one of the happy mis- 
fortunes of which one rarely grieves, but it often gives 
to our relations with others a sad levity, and to our 
sentiments a culpable inconstancy. The count made 
court to a lady as any one else would have said “ good 
day ” to her. He called this being polite, and he was 
too well educated not to be polite with every body. 
But these intrigues, engaged in from fancy and dissolved 
by caprice, did not bring him more than they cost ; 
pleasure is not even the small coin of happiness. Mil- 
lions of centimes do not always make one piece of 
gold, it is all in the manner of counting. If Christine 
had remained in Stockholm, he, without doubt, would 
have been one of her most persistent admirers. He 
could have brought to the attack that French fury which 
is able to conquer other things beside provinces. Either 
Christine would have been vanquished, and the count, 
after the first moments of intoxication, would have real- 
ized the fuU price he had paid for his victory ; or by 
her resistance, the noble woman would have stirred up his 
irascible and sickly vanity, and in wounding his pride, 
his tenderness would have been destroyed. Absence 
regulated these matters better. It gave to Mine, de 
Rudden, already so enchanting, a new grace ; it gave 
her the only thing she wanted, the prestige of absence 
and the merit of the impossible. The women who 
leave it after them possess neither its beauty nor its 
charm, and the remembrance of it, still fresh in his 


42 


CHRISTINE. 


mind, diverted George. The fimt hours of solitude his 
youth had ever known were due to this cause ; solitude 
which is the grave of small passions, is favorable to 
great ones. It gives to them that consciousness of self, 
without which one is not; it fortifies in purifying. 
There are, it is said, trees which draw their sap and 
their life only from the most remote strata of the soil ; 
there are lives which throw out their flowers and 
fragrance only when their roots penetrate the heart to 
the sacred source of tears. The count had exchanged 
a look with Christine, some words, hardly a shake of 
the hands during the sympathetic motions of a waltz. 
After a week he worshiped her, at the end of a month 
he loved her ! 

And Christine ? She had no confidant and no one 
ever knows what passes in the heart of a woman — even 
when they talk of it themselves. She corresponded 
with a few friends, for a long time whenever she was 
absent, she had been in the habit of writing to the Baron 
de Yendel, and she did now as she had always done 
before. People knew of it and they inquired of him 
for news of her, and they learned from him, that she 
had been called suddenly to the bedside of an uncle 
dangerously ill. After about a month Axel himself 
received a letter. It was the first time that Madame 
de Eudden had written to him. Axel was the count’s 
friend. He ran at once to the count, entering his 
cabinet with the open letter in his hand. 

“ I cannot be deceived about this matter, my 
friend. The address alone on the envelope is for me, 
it is not to my own merit that I owe this amiable let- 
ter, and I now fulfil the intentions of the wuiter in 
handing it to you !” 


CHRISTINE. 43 

Does she speak of me inqnii’ed the count, taking 
the letter. 

“ You are m6re deeply in love than I had supposed. 
And the proprieties ! Know then, that you are not 
even named and there is no postscript.” 

The count devoured the letter with his eyes. 

‘‘She has other correspondents than I,” continued 
Axel ; “ but she knows that I am a friend of yours and 
she expects that you will see her letter.” 

“I forewarn you that I don’t believe a word you 
say,” said the count, reading. * 

“ French and modesty,” replied Axel, laughing. 

The letter was short and artless. The countess an- 
nounced the death of her uncle, and said she should 
remain several weeks yet with the widow and children ; 
she added, that she regretted Stockholm and charged 
the chevalier to send her some books. This was nearly 
everything that was in it, not a word of the count, 
Madame de Kudden had not made a single allusion to 
him in her letter, but it was easy to see in the ensemble 
a shade of tender reverie, and expressions of half- 
veiled remembrances of friendship, which the gracious 
countess had never yet felt the need of expressing 
towards the chevalier. 

“ You will remark,’’ said Axel, “ that she writes in 
French.” 

“ It is the language of the court, and is universal in 
the fashionable world.” 

“Yes, but never among ourselves, at least; but do 
not make me say more about it,” and the chevalier took 
his leave. 

The count passed the day reading and re-reading the 
letter. He studied the i)hrases and weighed the ex- 


44 


CHRISTINE. 


pressions in tlie endeavor to discover the thoughts hid- 
den in the written word. It had been well considered 
and every word carefully measured. It is a quality 
which distinguishes a well-educated Woman. The 
count might suspect a general intention running through 
it, if the chevalier told the truth, but there was nothing 
in particular from which he could draw any advantage. 
Without doubt, it was little for him, but for her was it 
not a great deal ? The count obtained from the cheva- 
lier the privilege of preparing an answer, which the 
former must necessarily send to the countess. The first 
draft did not suit him, he perceived in reading it that 
this letter of a friend was rather that of a lover, that 
he had put a declaration in the mouth of the chevalier 
and that his burning passion was escaping through the 
cold pen of the chevalier. ‘‘That is too much,” he 
said to himself, “ and then if the countess should be 
deceived, if she should attribute sentiments to the 
chevalier which he is only expressing for me ; there 
would be danger of misunderstandings — the case is 
delicate.” He threw his rough draft into the fire and 
began anew and was better satisfied with his second 
efibrt. It was as nearly as possible as follows. 
He spoke of friendship, of remembrance ... of the 
lively memories that the countess left everywhere, of 
the regrets which had followed her ; and of the hopes 
which awaited her. So reserved as he was always in 
expression, led one to suspect a secret trouble. After 
a phrase sufficiently exciting, the count introduced his 
own name very shrewdly in saying that he had more 
than once asked for news of the countess, nothing 
more. Axel read the letter, approved of it, and felici- 
tated himself on the rapid progress he made in the 


CHRISTINE. 


45 


Frencli language. “ It is not the French of Stock- 
holm, it is the French of Paris,” said he, ‘^and I 
scarcely think that any one will perceive it ; hut I 
do n’t believe any one can take offense at it.” He 
copied the letter and sent it. 

In about three weeks he received a second letter, 
shorter than the first. He carried it at once to his 
friend. The count found it like a breath of spring, 
hope beat his wings, and life ran and trembled in the 
lines Aviltten in haste, to ask for the dramas of Schiller 
and the La Saga of Frithiof. The countess spoke with 
visible emotion of the happiness of her return, antici- 
pating the greatest pleasure from it, but named no 
period for it. 


CHAPTER Y. 

CHATEAU DE SKOKLOSTER — A SURPRISE — A T^TE-l-TETE — A 
DECLARATION — A PERFUMED HANDKERCHIEF — LEAVE-TAK- 
ING. 

The warm and balmy breezes of May were now 
felt upon the mountains ; the sap was coursing its 
way through the unwithered branches of the trees 
which were making ready to resume their summer cos- 
tume ; the buds were opening ; the leaves were unfold- 
ing and beginning to show the green, as they pushed 
their way out from the black and swollen branches ; the 
moss wdth the heather was renewing its flowers on the 
granite rocks, and the noise of the waterfalls breaking 
their icy fetters sounded and resounded through the 
woods. 


46 


CHRISTINE. 


The Mselar, like its neighbor, Lake Clara, was free 
from ice; and the steamers had resumed their daily 
trips to the North. The aristocracy, who are not de- 
tained in Stockholm by the affairs of the Diet, or who 
have no charge at court, or who do not wait there the 
season of baths or of traveling, return at this time to 
their country seats. 

The count was anxions to make some visits to fami- 
lies into which he had been received during the winter. 
Nothing was easier in Stockholm. The boat takes you 
away in the morning and returas at evening, after mak- 
ing the tour of the lake, penetrating its gulfs, touching 
at the islands, visiting the villages, and picking up and 
dropping its passengers by the way. 

The count’s first excursion led him to the Chateau de 
Skokloster, on the western border of Lake Clara. The 
illustrious family who inhabit this splendid domain 
stand at the head of the nobility of the realm, and it 
receives its visitors with that simplicity, that courtesy, 
and that grace, at once familiar and dignified, which 
distinguishes princely receptions and patriarchal hospi- 
tality. The count found at the chateau, only the old 
countess-dowager de Brahe. The family, which was 
composed of her daughter-in-law, a widow like herself, 
and of two young children, were out in the park 
with a friend who was visiting them. The count re- 
mained to dine. The chateau is curious for a stranger, 
and full of souvenirs of heroism and of love. Mme. 
de Brahe amused him with stories of the gi-and ladies 
of other days whom she had known, and whose manners 
and habits she knew how to describe. Time was pas- 
sing rapidly and pleasantly, and the noble hostess was 
akeady in the second edition of the sentimental elegy 


CHRISTINE. 


47 


of the beautiful Ebba Brabe, who was the Berenice and 
the Marie Mancini of Gustavus Adolphus, when the 
count, looking accidentally out of the window, saw the 
two young children — ^brother and sister — come run- 
ning through the grand walk of the park. Two 
ladies followed them — one was the Countess de Brahe, 
with whom the count had danced once or twice during 
the later fetes of the winter ; the other was turning at 
this moment towards the grand avenue of lindens and 
elms which traverses the park in its entire length, and 
he could not distinguish her face ; but, from the ele- 
gance of her tourmcre and the superb desinvolture of 
her movement, the count was at no loss to know who 
was before him — in the figure he was gazing upon, he 
recognized the woman he so much loved. One of the 
children ran up to her, and pulling her by the dress, she 
turned around, and he saw the beautiful face again. 
His surprise was great — and, not less, his emotion. All 
the blood in his body seemed to have gone to his heart ; 
and he fell, rather than seated himself, on a fauteuil. 
In order to recover his composure and gain a little time, 
he took up an album of designs, and began studying the 
picturesque costumes of Dalecarlie. 

Very soon the folding-doors were opened, and the lit- 
tle ones ran to their grandmother, filling her lap with 
flowers. 

‘‘ My dear grandchildren !” said the old countess to 
the count, as she caressed these two blonde heads. 

Charming !” murmured George, recovering him- 
self. 

The two women now entered the saloon. 

“ What a beautiful picture !” said the Countess de 
Eudden, looking^ at the old lady and her grandcliildren. 


48 


CHRISTINE. 


She had not jet perceived the count, who was half hid 
behind the high oaken back of a gothic faiiteuil. “ I 
too, grandmother, have brought you some flowers,” she 
said, throwing herself on her knees, by the side of the 
children, at the feet of the old countess. 

Christine, Christine ! what are you about said the 
other lady, laughing, and coming up to salute the 
count. 

Christine turned, still on her knees, and recognized 
M. de Simaine. She remained a moment or two, with- 
out getting up, looking upon him with mute admira- 
tion. 

“ M. de Simaine, my dear countess,” said the old la- 
dy, introducing them. 

I have already seen the gentleman,” said Christine ; 
and she blushed to the roots of her liair. 

What a flne group you make as you are now,” said 
the young widow approaching them. 

Many a painter, I am sure, would have been glad to 
reproduce on his canvas this beautiful scene so full of 
grace. The old grandmother Avith her white face, with- 
out wrinkles, all covered with violets, primroses, and 
anemones, was smiling upon her two grandchildren, 
Avho, half frightened, were crowding around her ; 
Christine, still on her knees, turning towards the count, 
her bosom palpitating with her excitement, and the sur- 
prised expression of a deer who has been frightened in 
the woods. The country air had browned her skin ; 
her eyes swam in a serene light, and the wind, which 
had been playing with her hair, had dislodged one of 
the large tresses which fell in golden ringlets on her bo- 
som. She held on her shoulder, a branch of flowering* 
hawthorn, inverted like the palm branches of the Yir- 


CHRISTINE. 


49 


gin and the saints which are turned towards the Ma- 
donna, in the pictures of Perugino. George stood mo- 
tionless and mute, engraving these fine pictures on his 
mind. 

But there are situations which it is not necessary to 
prolong. He made two steps towards Christine, and ex- 
tended his hand to raise her ; he may have retained 
the beautiful hand a second too long, but no one per- 
ceived it. Christine still held on to the branch of 
fiowering hawthorn which was standing erect between 
them, over-shadowing the two heads, and shaking upon 
them its white and perfumed clusters. 

The introduction is easily made, then. You are 
acquainted. I congratulate you both, and I am very 
happy to be the medium of bringing you together 
again. Count, I love Mme. de Kudden as I do my 
own daughter, and it is really en famille that you will 
pass the day.” 

The day was a short one for the count, but it was 
one of those we mark with a white stone in our sou- 
venirs. The young man experienced an inexpressible 
pleasure at seeing Christine again. Hever had she 
looked so beautiful to him ; she appeared a hundred 
times more so than when he saw her at the ball ; per- 
haps it was because he was alone, and in this cordial 
intimacy, that he could enjoy all the charm which her 
presence and society afibrded him. The countess was 
dressed in black, and he thought that black was the 
distinguishing toilette par excellence^ and the only one 
which was becoming to an elegant lady. Some violet- 
colored ribands which, tied in bows, she used to loop 
up her folds of black crape, relieved somewhat the 
sombre and severe black. On his side, he was over- 
3 


50 


CHRISTINE. 


flowing with wit, animation and gayety. He had more 
flow^ers blooming in his soul than the children had 
gathered in the park, and if Christine had listened to 
lier heart, she could have heard all the nightingales of 
the springtime of love singing there. She, too, was 
happy ; but her happiness was mixed with a secret 
trouble, a near neighbor to fear. 

The steamer from TJpsala would stop there after 
noon, and the count must return by it to Stockholm. 
Christine lived on the other side of the lake, which is 
here not very wide. From the window of the chateau 
they could see, at some distance away, her carriage 
coming down to wait for her at the little landing 
which had been constructed for the benefit of the two 
families. The Skokloster boat did not leave its moor- 
ings until after they had seen the horses on the other 
side of the lake. 

It was arranged that the count should re-condnct 
Christine to her carriage, and that the boat should 
then wait for the steamer, which never waited for any 
one ; she stopped here a moment only to exchange 
mails, and sailed again immediately. The arrange- 
ment proposed was, therefore, the most natural thing in 
the world, and no one made any objection to it. But 
the old countess, who had missed once in her life get- 
ting on board the boat, w^as always afraid that her visi- 
tors might experience the same mishap. So, when the 
moment of departure was approaching, she thought 
more of hurrying her guests than of retaining them, of 
which the count found no reason to complain. As to 
Mme. de Kudden, she declared that she had no longer 
any wish of her own. She followed the impulsion 
given without having any idea of resistance ; the 


CHRISTINE. 


51 


others thought for her. She tied lier ribands with a 
feverish movement. She embraced her friend’s grand- 
child, and the little one cried : 

^‘Yoii hurt me!” and seemed astonished at the 
countess’s abruptness. 

Put on your cloak, my dear,” said the grand- 
mother, thinking that it was with the cold that her 
friend was trembling. The count, with his hat in his 
hand, appeared superbly calm, but his impatience was 
devouring him ; he thought they were indefinitely pro- 
longing their adieus, and that the thousand and one 
tender sentimentalities exchanged by the ladies in 
leave-taking were the occasion of a great loss of pre- 
cious time for the men. 

At last Christine took the hand he extended to her, 
and entered the boat. 

Adieu 1” — Au revoir “ Write soon !” All 
these exclamations were exploded at once, then the two 
chatelaines returned with the children, and three strokes 
of the oars drove the boat of the voyageurs into the 
open lake. 

When George and Christine found themselves alone 
in this boat, with a single boatman, a Swede, who did 
not understand a word of French, the strangeness of 
their position struck them as singular ; they looked at 
each other, smiling at the idea of their meeting again 
under such peculiar circumstances. 

They were seated near each other on a narrow seat, 
at the stern of the boat. The Lake Clara, which is 
connected with Lake Mselar, is not very wide at Sko- 
kloster, but its banks are low and the undulation charm- 
ing. Here and there rocks of granite and porphyry, 
crowned with tufts of trembling firs, stand erect like 


52 


CHRISTINE. 


petrified giants ; two or three little islands, thrown up 
irregularly in the middle of the lake, break the mo- 
notony of the line, and vary the picture, to vrhich the 
large, square mass of buildings of Skokloster, con- 
structed with all the imposing heaviness of the seven- 
teenth century, served as a magnificent background. 
The evening was splendid ; small, rosy clouds were 
coursing the sky, the beautiM sky of the ISTorth, so 
delicately blue, white silvered vapors, chased by a fresh 
breeze, rolled over the green and transparent lake, per- 
forated with a thousand dimples, like the cheek of a 
laughing child. 

Exterior circumstances exercise over us more influ- 
ence than we are always aware of, and we ought not to 
reproach the romancer for describing them, because 
they often modify the sentiments of the personages of 
his story. In a tete-d-tete in the open air, and on the 
bosom of beautiful and free nature, one does not talk 
to a woman as one would in a saloon, by the fireside, 
or at the piano. It is the privilege of our spirit to ex- 
alt itself, and to aggrandise itself with the spectacles 
which surround us. 

M. de Simaine and Mme. de Rudden experienced a 
moment of constraint, and that embarrassment which 
is not without its charms for a man and a woman, who 
find themselves alone together for the first time, under 
the empire of profound and tender emotions. With 
everything to talk about, they were dumb. The count 
enjoyed his own embarrassment, but more, still, that of 
Christine. He looked stealthily at his beautiful com- 
panion, who was allowing the end of her branch of 
flowering hawthorn to drop into the water. She at- 
tempted to gather her shawl up over her shoulders, and 


CHRISTINE. 


53 


as it rebelled under the direction of the wind, and was 
falling off, the count took the two ends and crossed 
them over her bosom, with all the delicacy of a young 
mother. Christine shivered with the cold ; the count 
took her hand, exclaiming : 

“ How cold you are 1” 

‘‘Yes,” replied Christine, without raising her eyes, 
“ it was very warm in the house of the countess ; the 
air is clear and cold, and I am chilly. It will be noth- 
ing. The distance is very short.” 

The count, without further parley, threw his cloak 
around Christine’s feet, with a manner far removed from 
the gallantry of the saloon, and as she attempted to 
throw it off and return it to him, he knelt and gathered 
it closely around her feet. 

“ How do you feel now ?” 

“ Much better, I thank you — and you ?” 

“ Oh, I ” 

He pronounced these two words in a tone which 
showed that he was very much excited. He did not 
rise from his knees. It is better, perhaps, to look 
upon a woman ffom this position ; she appears a 
thousand times m6re beautiful when she is handsome. 
She has, then, as she looks upon us, the expression of 
ravishing eyes which Raffaele always gives to his beau- 
tiful Madonnas. 

All ineffable, profound and serene tenderness shone 
on the face of the count. He had extinguished the fire 
of passion in his eyes, which now had only the humid 
appearance of tears just ready to fiow. Those black 
eyes attracted and retained her gaze, as if she had been 
fascinated by some magnetic charm. In her excitement, 
she grew pale, and her heart seemed to stop beating ; 


54 


CHRISTINE. 


but her lips trembled, and the shadow of her lowering 
eyelids palpitated on her cheek, like the wings of a bird. 

“ Pray get up,” said she, in a low voice ; and as he 
did not immediately obey her, she added, “ let me beg 
of you to resume your seat.” 

“ I am very well here he replied, but he finally got 
up. 

They were silent again. Of what use were words to 
them? 

“"Will you not talk?” inquired Christine, finally. 
“ One would think that you were afraid to awake the 
fishes in this lake.” 

“ No,” he replied, “ I am silent because I do not wish 
to frighten away my dreams.” 

You should wait then ; for in order to dream, one 
must be alone.” But the count was not disposed to talk. 

How beautiful that old manor is,” said Christine, 
to break a silence which was becoming oppressive, 
pointing with her hand to the towers of the chateau de 
Brahe, all illuminated with the departing rays of the 
setting sun. 

“ Yes,” said George, without looking at the picture, 
and it is all the more beautiful now for me, because it 
is associated with my dearest souvenirs.” A slight frown 
appeared on the brow of Christine ; she did not like to 
have the conversation directed towards themselves, and 
he observed it. 

“ Pardon me,” he said, but I feel that this moment 
wiU, perhaps, be an unique one for me. Who knows if 
I shall ever find so favorable an occasion, and an hour 
so propitious ? Who knows if I shall ever see you 
again ?” 

Christine made a gesture of naif dismay. She looked 


CHRISTINE. 55 

at him without saying anything, as if slie were happy 
to hear him talk, and talk thus. 

“ Since I have found you, I have been so happy ; and 
now I am soon to lose you. I have a secret here in 
my heart.’’ 

“ Pray do not reveal it !” 

A cloud passed over the count’s eyes; and he ap- 
peared to feel a disappointment, and, Christine was fear- 
ful that she had wounded him ; and she continued : 

“ ISTot now !” 

“ Ah,” said the count, “ you know it then, since it 
displeases you to hear it.” 

“ Displeases me,” she replied ; “ you do not believe 
that !” 

‘‘ Oh, I thank you,” he replied ; “ I thank you from 
the bottom of my heart. Others know how beautiful 
you are, but I alone comprehend how good you are.” 

Do not make me repent of it then,” said Christine, 
abandoning her hand to him. 

George looked upon her with admiration, her face 
seemed to be transfigured, her cheeks were animated by 
a roseate hue, which seemed to be reflected from the 
rays of the aurora borealis of her own country ; her 
eye was limpid as the water of the lake which they 
were crossing ; her mouth gave expression to the rapid 
emotions of her heart, and one could see that her soul 
was blossoming with happiness like a flower under the 
genial rays of the sun. 

George had an almost irresistible desire to throw him- 
self at her feet, and to swear upon her lips all the oaths 
of love. She saw his anxiety, and to appease it, she 
placed her hand over his mouth, and pointed at the 
boatman who was bending over his oars and singing an 


56 


CHRISTINE. 


amorous ballad. His back was turned towards them, 
but be could easily look behind him. 

George kissed the little hand which she was holding 
over his lips a thousand times; and in a low voice 
which appeared calm to her, he told the countess how 
his mind had been pre-occupied only with thoughts of 
her ; he avowed to her that the first time he had en- 
countered her upon Lake Mselar, he had judged her 
haughty and proud, and he had thought he could never 
love her, but when he met her at the ball, where every 
one was dazzled with her beauty, he himself was charm- 
ed, and felt that his life was henceforth to be bound up 
in hers. After she left Stockholm, he had sought her 
everywhere ; he had had only one happy sensation, and 
that was on a certain day in the streets of Stockholm, 
where he had accidentally inhaled the perfume of mi- 
mosa, which she had about her at the ball. 

Which I have always about me,” she replied, taking 
out her pocket handkerchief. 

He suddenly seized it, and with impetuous ardor, in- 
toxicated himself with its exquisite fragrance. These 
perfumes, subtile spirits of things, pure emanations, 
breaths of the celestial world, penetrating charms, give 
an eternity to human relics, and, floating in the air, bring 
souls together and retain them by invisible bonds ! 

‘‘ In truth,” continued the count, “ since the day I 
first loved you ; for I do love you, Christine ; I love 
you with the purity of the first passion of youth, with 
all that ardor with which a man’s nature is capable. 
Oh, how I have suffered ! with no human heart to 
which I could open iny own ; obliged to bury the burn- 
ing secret in my own breast, without being able to dis- 
close it. 


CHRISTINE. 57 

And I,” said she, carried away by his violence, “ do 
you think then that I have spoken of it 

And she never made any other avowal to him. 

I do n’t know vv^hat the steamer is doing,” said the 
boatman, turning to Christine. 

She will come soon,” she replied ; “ be patient !” 

They had arrived in the middle of the lake ; Piers 
raised his oars, the little billows rocked the boat, which 
was now drifting gently. The boatman resumed, in a 
low tone, his ballad, of which the melody, slow and 
plaintive, but infinitely tender, agreed well with the 
words of a popular song of Dalecarlie, familiar to the 
boatmen of Lake Maelar, and of which the first stanza 
begins thus : 

“ Both Id the boundless desert lost.” 

The count and countess listened to the song to its 
conclusion, and the count continued : 

“ I had arrived at a point where I no longer even 
dared to talk to you. To a woman all questions are in- 
discreet, and what woman is ever surrounded with more 
respect than she who is truly loved 

Christine thanked him by a look. 

“ And then,” he continued, if you knew my inquie- 
tude ! you, so beautiful ; you ought to be adored ; you, 
so tender — for you are tender, Christine — ^you ought to 
love.” 

^ “ Mon Dieu !” she cried, I never can.” 

“ There is the steamer !” cried the boatman, resuming 
his oars. 

A column of thick smoke was seen rising behind the 
fii’s and the larches on a little island which hid the steam- 
er itself. Christine extended her ungloved hand to the 
young man. 3* 


58 


CHRISTINE. 


“ Is this your response f ’ said he. 

‘‘ How exacting you are, already 

said he; “do not answer. I ask nothing. 
Whatever you please ; here as always ; know only, 
that I throw my life at your feet ; my happiness is in 
your hands.” 

The steamer now hove in sight, and approached their 
boat rapidly, as if anxious to make up lost time she 
was going at full speed. The movement of her heavy 
wheels upon the water set their little bark to dancing 
upon the top of the waves, and Christine, who was 
standing, staggered. George extended his arm to sus- 
tain her, and she trembled at the warmth of his em- 
brace. 

“ Christine ! Christine !” said he, in a low voice, “ I 
love you with all my heart.” 

She shut her eyes, and dropped upon the seat at the 
stern of the boat, while George, stepping upon the 
steamer, waved her an adieu with his hand. 

The steamer shot ahead towards Stockholm, and the 
little boat pushed for the eastern shore of the lake. 
Kunning to the stern of the steamer, the count took 
out a pocket handkerchief and waving it, recognized 
again the delicious perfume of the mimosa, and looking 
at it more carefully, discovered in one corner the letter 
C, and the crown of pearls which all countesses wear 
on the forehead. It was the handkerchief of Christine, 
which he had involuntarily retained. He hid in his 
bosom this fresh relic of the love so dear and so sweet. 


CHRISTINE. 


59 


CHAPTEE YI. 

CORRESPONDENCB — LETTER FROM GEORGE DE SIMAINE TO HENRY 

DE FIENNES, AT MUNICH — CHRISTINE DE RUDDEN TO MAIA 

DE BJORN AT COEENHAGEN. 

“ She loves me ! I tell you she loves me ! Illu- 
minate the Pinacotheque in my honor this evening ! 
Who has been so foolish as to disparage Sweden, 
or insane enough to believe anything bad of it? 
Sweden is a charming country and Stockholm is equal 
to Paris ! I acknowledge that it is cold here, but it is 
easy to keep warm ! and then the climate is healthy ; 
there are nowhere so many centenarians, one rarely dies 
here, and how they do live to be sure ! their winters are 
all gayety ; their carnival lasts six months ! And the 
spring ! you should see the North in the spring time ! 
It might be called an improvising of nature. To-day, 
nothing ; to-morrow, everything ! In the morning you 
may pass a naked rock, and in the evening the same 
rock will be covered with flowers ! 

You have too much sense to ask me whence comes 
this access of poetry, and why it is that I am babbling 
over with a hymn to the month of May ! I will tell 
you then, I am in love / 

“Yesterday I was very sad, yesterday morning at 
least ! It was such a long time since I had heard any- 
thing from her. I sometimes thought I should never 
see her again, and despair took possession of nie — no, 
despair is too gentle a term, it was a profound hopeless- 
ness and discouragement full of bitterness. 

“ Henry, we have known each other a great while, 


6o 


CHRISTINE. 


you are my friend, my only friend ; you Lave been 
more than once a witness of the stormy vicissitudes of 
my life, you know wdiat I can suffer, because you 
know of what passion my nature is capable. Passion] 
is a great thing, no doubt, but tenderness is a greatey 
This woman of whom I have hardly spoken to you, 
that I have seen but twice, with whom I once waltzed 
ten minutes, I would not tell even you, but I do love 
her ! Perhaps I have not felt for her the same ardent 
desires, which more than once already have been 
kindled in me, but I have experienced, in simply think- 
ing of her, a sadness mingled with I knoTv not wdiat 
of infinite sweetness, a charm which took complete 
possession of me. She left the city and I did n’t know 
that she would ever return, and I could not even speak 
of her ; when one loves, one becomes discreet. Ther^ 
is great respect at the bottom of all earnest lov^ I 
was satisfied to suffer alone, and to you, my friend, I 
would not confess that I was suffering ! Sadness is 
more easily concealed than joy, and to-day, joy radiates 
from my eyes, laughter from my face, I am happy and 
I want you to be happy with me ! She loves me ! it is 
for me that the flowers are blooming ; it is for me that 
the birds are singing in the woods ; she loves me ! I am 
monarch of the world ! I have seen her again and she 
is more beautiful than ever, and more touching in her 
melancholy, grace. I met her accidentally one day at 
the chateau Skokloster ; a blessed accident ! I cannot 
describe the day to you, a veritable enchantment from 
the first hour to the last. The happiest portion of all 
w^as a sail on the lake ! but I am no scribe and words 
are traitors, which never say what one wishes them to 
pay. They should bo set to the music of Bellini and 


CHRISTINE. 


6l 


Sling under her windows. This is a trifling matter 
however, it was a word exchanged in a low voice, under 
the eyes of a boatman ; it is true he was not looking at 
ns, and it was only while we were crossing the lake ; 
how short the passage was ! With her I would have 
sailed for America in this frail boat. . . . With her ! . . 
oh, my friend, how sweetly these two words sound in 
my ears ! Tinally, her hand was rapidly pressed, hardly 

kissed — no, not even that 1 and that was all, and 

now these souvenirs will remain with me for life, how- 
ever long that may be ! Ah, if you had only seen 
those large, blue, sombre eyes turned towards me — 
two violets looking at one ! ITow, you know as much 
as I do, I asked nothing of her, and she promised me 
nothing ; the future is all mystery and I await it with a 
confidence which is not without anxiety. For you, my 
dear friend, behold how I make a confidant of you! 
Pardon me, I will begin again. 

When you write to Paris, tell Y to send me 

a trunk full of all sorts of things. People do n’t dress 
here, they only bundle up, and I desire to represent my 
country worthily.” 

The count rang for his domestic to take his letter to 
the embassy, for the courier was to depart the same 
day for Germany. When the domestic answered the 
bell he brought in another letter. The seal was not that 
of des Pudden, the three merlettes en chef, and the sword 
enjpalj that he had seen on the carriage of the countess. 
This was a silver star on an azure ground, the rays illu- 
minating a sea of sinople. He recognized it then as 
the arms of the family of Oxen-Stjerna. The countess, 
for the letter was from her, in writing to him had be- 


62 


CHRISTINE. 


come a young girl again, had dropped her conjugal 
coat of arms — des Euddeu — ^hy a delicate attention, 
and for this occasion used that of her own family. 
George looked a long time at the superscription as if he 
were reading there the future of his life, he finally 
broke the seal, and in a single couj^ (PcBily read these 
two lines : 

In three days I shall be in Stockholm, if you love » 
me tell no one.” 

1^0 postage stamp stained the envelope, the letter had 
come by private hand. The count read it again and 
again, studying each word and each letter until the 
whole was, so to say, daguerreotyped on his brain ; he 
then opened a little ebony casket covered with cedar ; 
and taking out several letters, some faded flowers and 
ribands, which he threw into the fire, he deposited 
in their place the letter and the handkerchief of the 
countess. Bachelors who have sometimes been a 
little wild have necessarily among their furniture a 
desk with a secret di’awer, a furnished apartment whose 
occupants receive more or less frequently their conge, 
according to the constancy, or the volatility of the pro- 
prietor. 

“ In three days !” said the count, taking the key out 
of the box. The letter is not dated ... it may have 
been written yesterday — it may be that she will arrive 
to-day, she may be here to-morrow ; yes, perhaps, 
to-morrow I Ah, I would not have believed myself so 
young !” 

He dressed himself and went to the club wEere he 
had not been seen for ten days. He crossed the billiard 
saloon to where the Chevalier Yalborg made one of a 
crowd of half a dozen young men, among whom was 


CHRISTINE. 


63 

the Baron de Y endel. The chevalier coming up to the 
count, cried out : “ Yictory my friend, the beautiful 
countess is coming back ! She has written to the major, 
see how radiant he is ! But have a care, I think your 
stock is going down.” 

“To do that it must have first gone up. What 
leads you to suppose that I am in disgrace 

“ It is that she has said nothing to me about it.” 

‘‘Women are fickle !” 

“ My God ! yes, absence ! Ah, absence, my dear 
count ! but she will return, that is the important point ; 
once on the ground again, you will regain your advan- 
tages.” 

“Do you think so ?” said the count. 

“With women, my friend, it is necessary to believe 
everything and nothing.” 

“ A beautiful maxim ! is it current in Sweden ?” 

“ Yes ; but we imported it from France.” 

CHRISTINE DE RUDDEN TO MAIA DE BJORN, AT COPENHAGEN. 

“ My dear Mdia : — It is two months, is it not ? since 
I have given you any sign of life ; if I were to look for 
them, I should find plenty of excuses ; a death in the 
family ; annoyances and chagrins on all sides ; the 
little role of a Sister of Charity, which I have play- 
,ed, in private, for the benefit of my aunt and my 
cousins, and then this, and then that. Finally, my 
dear, a thousand pretexts and a thousand excuses . . . 
if I only knew how to lie . . . but I do not . . . the honest 
truth is, that I have been very much embarrassed about 
what I have to tell you. There was something; but 
what ; I did not know myself. I see I am whetting your 
curiosity, my dear, and I laugh at it. How, come, ma- 


64 


CHRISTINE. 


dame ambassadress tell me what kind of men are French 
secretaries of legation at Copenhagen ? There is one 
here, a certain George de Simaine, who is likely to run 
away with the heart of your friend. Ah, Maia, how 
happy I am, to have so well guarded this poor heart, 
that it is not yet surrendered entirely to him. You are 
astonished, I see, and you ask what great tire has so 
readily thawed the ice of your friend’s heart ; and you 
are anxious for the details. The most astonishing of 
all, my dear, is, that there are none. My history is every- 
thing, and it is nothing ! I have seen him twice, three 
times, perhaps, I am not sure ; and it seems to me now, 
that I was created and placed in the world only for 
him. 

“ Mon coeur, en le voyant a reconnu son maitre !’* 

“ Do you see, this is French poetry I am quoting since 
I — I was going to say— since I fell in love; but it 
would be too soon, would it not ? I read only French 
books. I did not wish to be ignorant of any thing 
which interests him. He is very handsome ; still more, 
distinguished, and young ! Ah, too young ! that is his 
only fault and my only misfortune. He is twenty- 
six years old, and I ! it is frightful, is it not ? But what 
of it. It is not his fault; still less is it mine. What 
must be, will be. We need not cheapen our hap- 
piness ! My happiness ! well, yes, I used the word 
and will not recall it. I am happy since yesterday, 
and for the first time in my life! You know I 

met him at a ball at the house of Count F . You, 

my dear, with your calm and serene mind, you do not be- 
lieve in what our grandmothers called love at first sight. 
I do. The next day I quitted Stockholm ; but I carried 


CHRISTINE. 


65 


away with me a souvenir! Long months passed; I 
was restless and sad ; I thought myself forgotten ; that 
is our fate ; we poor women ! we commit a greater mis- 
take when we absent ourselves than the men do ! At 
last, we met again at the house of the Countess de 
Brahd. We crossed the lake together ; oh, I was very 
much moved and he was greatly affected. My dear 
Mai'a, have you not told me twenty times that the dis- 
creet emotion of one who loves us, is the most tender 
and charming of homages to us ? And if you had seen 
him when he took my hand 1 But for the sly boatman 
who was looking at us out of one corner of his eye, I 
could have fallen upon his neck. Do not scold me, my 
discreet friend ; I have already scolded myself. But 
what could I do ? I have lost a great deal of time. hTo 
one has ever loved me, or I have never loved any body ; 
which comes to the same thing. You see that you must 
pardon me something. As to this man ; I feel that I must 
love him and you know, Maia, how I can love ! I 
start to-morrow for Stockholm, with a heart full of joy, 
and a mind full of anxiety. I feel that my destiny is 
accomplished. It is in him ! I do n’t know how it will 
end ; perhaps I shall suffer ... to suffer for him, will be 
happiness indeed 1” 


66 


CHRISTINE. 


CHAPTEE YII. 

CHRISTINE RETURNS TO STOCKHOLM. 

Christine returned to Stockholm on the day indi- 
cated. Her return was the occasion of a fete ; one 
would have thought that a young queen had newly ar- 
rived to the possession of her kingdom. Her Mends 
adored her ; and she was invited everywhere. Her 
recent mourning prevented her accepting these invita-- 
tions. Through her half-opened door she received her 
intimate friends; and in the eyes of all the world, 
George held the first position in that category. The 
friends of the countess were frightened at it ; around a 
pretty woman, friendship will excite nearly as much 
jealousy as love. Prudence and the natural reserve of 
the young diplomatist, allayed tlie suspicions of some, 
and disarmed the mistrust of others. But nothing 
escaped the watchfulness of the Baron de Yendel; it 
is lovers themselves only who are blind. Christine did 
not contain her happiness discreetly ; it escaped from 
her on all sides. 

‘‘ How beautiful you are !” said the baron to her, one 
day ; “ handsomer than ever ; en verite, you are trans- 
figured !” 

‘‘Are you sorry for it V’ 

“Yes.” 

“ Why r 

“It is happiness which renders you so handsome ; 
and it is love which makes you so happy !” 

“ You meet again then your old idea ; that love is 
the disguise of women.” 

“ I like you better, however, when you do not wear it.” 


CHRISTINE. 


67 


CHAPTEE YIII. 

LIFE AT THE YILLA — BAEON DE VENDEL — MORE CORRESPON- 
DENCE. 

Stockholm, like Paris, like Yienna, like all other 
great cities, has its fashionable season. The Swe- 
dish beauties leave their capital when the swallows 
come ; some make the tour of the Continent, that is to 
say, they cross the Sund ; others content themselves 
with the baths of Guttenberg. They call that going 
to the South ! They understand each other. Most of 
them flee to their chateaux in the country, where, with 
no great expense of money, they can enjoy a quiet and 
pleasant life, served by their own people, in a certain 
sense their subjects, and in the midst of a thousand 
comforts which a prolific earth showers upon the pro- 
prietor who deigns to cultivate her. 

But Christine, since the death of the Count de Eud- 
den, had renounced this sort of life, which requires the 
superintendence of a man. She passed all her summers 
in the chateau of her uncle, who had just died, and to 
return there now would be to separate herself from 
George for five or six months, and she could not think 
of that. To take him with her to her own estate, 
which she had not visited in ten years, propriety foi- 
bad it. Christine, like all women who respect them- 
selves, respected public opinion. But she was inge- 
nious — all women are when they are in love — and she 
found the means to reconcile everything. 

There was, an hour only from Stockholm on the 
other side of the chateau de Haga, a delightful little 


68 


CHRISTINE. 


villa, belonging to an Englisli charges d’affaires. From 
it there were magnificent views of the royal park, and 
of its beautiful trees, planted by Gustavus III. Two 
little streams, whose shores are embroidered with a 
beantiful lawn, cross the garden of the villa, and charm- 
ing walks, leading in all directions, diversify the scene. 
One can enter by one route and retire by another. In 
a word, it was a petite maison of the country. Chris- 
tine bought it, and established herself there, and an- 
nounced to her friends that she would be “ at home ” 
every evening. The major presided at all the arrange- 
ments of the installation with a grace of manner which 
entirely veiled his sadness. It was he, with the Chev- 
alier de Yalborg, who went there with the countess on 
the day on which she took possession. 

‘‘ It will be pleasant here,” he said in her ear, as he 
gave her his hand to descend from the carriage. 

I hope,” said she, “ that it will always be pleasant 
for you here.” 

“ The situation pleases me,” said the chevalier ; ^‘and 
I hope to be often here with my friend Simaine.” 

‘‘ You will always be welcome,” said Christine. 

The baron, who observed the quick impressionability 
of her youth, blushed on hearing the name of his rival 
pronounced. 

For my part,” said he to the countess, as they were 
entering one of the alleys in the park, “ I hope he will 
not come here.” 

And why not ?” inquired she, with an air of sur- 
prise and seriousness.” 

“ I should regret to see him here 1” he replied, in a 
low tone. 

“ I should regret it if he did not come.” 


CHRISTINE. 


69 


Then my choice is not doubtful !” he replied, with 
the resignation of a martyr, who smiles at his execu- 
tioner. 

« Yery well. ITow you are reasonable ; and it is in 
that mood that you please me,” said Christine, leading 
him to the basin of gray and blue porphyry, where the 
chevalier amused himself throwing bread-crumbs to 
the gold fishes. Christine possessed all the delicacy of 
a truly noble heart, but she was in love ! and in the 
intoxication of her first love, she did not even perceive 
that she was bruising a noble aifection, and that she 
was unmindful of the major’s profound tenderness for 
her. The presence of the major added little to her 
happiness, and for this little he paid with the sacrifice 
of his repose. It is a sufficiently rough experience to 
see one’s love slighted ; what' is it then when to this 
first torture a second is added ; that of seeing your 
rival preferred ! But the woman who is ruled by her 
passion is a little like the priests of the Orient, who 
march up to the wooden images of their god, trampling 
upon the living bodies of their devotees and slaves. 

The major entered resolutely upon this path, strewed 
with the thorns of hidden sacrifice, and of unknown 
heroism. It was only at a later day that Christine 
comprehended the grandeur and merit of this abnega- 
tion. Perhaps it might be said that this w^as also, in 
some degree, the baron’s fault. He had given expres- 
sion to his love maladroitly ; never had he spoken of 
it, except when she had been listening to another. He 
had thus chosen his time unfortunately. Quietly and 
by degrees he had habituated himself to the role of 
the preferred friend, and so long as no one came for- 
ward to play a more brilliant part, and to supersede 


70 


CHRISTINE. 


him, he was contented. The count’s presence turned 
everything topsy-turvy, awoke him from his dreams, and 
interrupted his long nourished hopes. Nothing, how- 
ever, betrayed the state of his feelings to the w’orld ; 
he had occasional paroxysms of nervous irritation, 
which he promptly suppressed, but that was all. 

“ Little as I am to her,” he said to himself, “ I will 
at least be that ! Have I not sworn a hundred times 
to her to obey even her slightest caprice ! Perhaps I 
should suffer still more in not seeing her at all. But 
that is not the question ; she wishes matters between 
us to remain as they are. Let them, I am resigned !” 

Life at the cottage soon became very charming to all 
its habitudes. Axel, the major and the count were the 
only regular visitors. The drama was confined to these 
four characters. Christine was fast losing her serenity, 
the major was unmoved ; Axel was a looker-on ; and 
he saw more, perhaps, than one would have expected 
one of his mobile and frivolous nature to see. Soon, 
however, the major, whose name was on the active list 
of the army, received an order to accompany his gen- 
eral on a tour of inspection. Christine saw him depart 
with an emotion, mingled with secret pleasure ; she 
was, unknown to herself, so charming to him, that he 
comprehended all the pleasure she would derive from 
his absence. Love which has not yet suffered has 
sometimes this naivety of egotism ; his excuse was that 
he had not perceived it. 

After the major left. Axel went less frequently to the 
villa ; the count, on the contrary, went there all the 
oftener. The more he saw of Christine, the more he 
loved her, and their mutual attachment became 
stronger and stronger. Neither of them sounded 


CHRISTINE. 


71 


the depth of their love ; never was happiness more 
perfect than theirs. Christine sometimes had some 
vague anxieties ; but she hid them from George, and 
oftener, still, from herself. He saw only smiles on her 
lips, and every shadow of pain was driven away with a 
caress. It is thus that lovers console themselves, never 
knowing which loves the most ; but neither one nor 
the other could have loved more. They were together 
always. The count, after the business of the day was 
dispatched, repaired forthwith to the villa, sometimes 
in a carriage by the road frequented by everybody, 
and sometimes on horseback across the fields. If from 
any cause he remained at the villa the whole day, he was 
careful to show himself everywhere, and to make a noise 
about it for a week. It was, however, a useless precau- 
tion ; people took no thought of them. Stockholm is 
not so much petite mile as some of the saloons of Paris. 

People relate the catastrophes and the revolutions of 
a life that is checkered by unhappiness. Authors write 
books describing the events and accidents of thwarted 
loves, but happiness has no historian. 

The summer ran away like a day without clouds. It 
was, for our lovers, one of those blessed seasons which 
never come to us twice in a lifetime. The count felt it, 
and enjoyed it with a sort of avidity a little intense 
which sometimes troubled Christine. She, on* the con- 
trary, accepted happiness with an acknowledgment 
which astonished her. She did not belieye it was in 
store for her, and it surprised, as much as it charmed 
her. Her mind had brooded over the impressions of 
the griefs of her early youth ; and, notwithstanding all 


72 


CHRISTINE. 


^he affection with which she had been surrounded since, 
/ it had remained as a sort of defiance against herself. 
""•It is often thus with the most sensitive natures, exposed 
to the severe chastisements of life. C^he coiled them up 
upon each other invincibly, and, when later in life a 
tender sympathy came to her to upraise them and to 
create for them a new life, long and patient efforts 
w^ere necessary to inspire them with that confidence 
which is, to happiness, the gnage of its duration. Se- 
vere moral sufferings of early life embitter and corrupt 
vulgar minds, who revenge themselves, sooner or later, 
on those who surround them — they have suffered, and 
they claim the right to make others suffer ; but, gener- 
ous minds must, on the contrary, render good for evil, 
they seek to make others happy, and are only unsuc- 
cessful when they try to do themselves the same ser- 
vice. There are fiowers which yield their perfume only 
when they are bruised ; but, when it is once yielded up, 
they never fiower again, j 

Christine had preserved all the freshness and the ten- 
derness of her youth. She had lost only the confidence 
which usually accompanies it, and she had become more 
agreeable to others in becoming less so to herself. No 
love better than that of George’s w^as capable of paci- 
fying her fears and giving her the only thing she need- 
ed — the just appreciation of herself. But, here again, 
the excess of her delicacy led her astray. She felt that 
she was loved more than she had hoped to be ; as much 
as she could desire to be — but, always ingenious in tor- 
menting even her joys, she asked herself if there was 
not mingled with it, too much of kindness on the part of 
M. de Simaine ; if he did not love her too much for 
herself, and not enough for himself. To be entirely 


CHRISTINE. 


73 


happy, she would have wished him to he more egotisti- 
cal ; a noble and charming error of an adorable nature, 
who was always fearing to recei\^e too much and not to 
give enough, and whose supreme happiness consisted in 
making others happy. 

The count, who was only a man, suspected the exist- 
ence of these refinements rather than comprehended 
them. He had his presentiments and anxieties, as will 
be seen by the following letter which he wrote to his 
friend on one of the early days of autumn : 

THE COUNT TO HENRI I 

You have not replied to me since I wrote you last. 
I do not complain ; I have passed an enchanting season. 
It is an experience of life aside from my ordinary one. 
This woman I do not know how to praise her too much, 
nor how to love her enough. She has introduced me 
into a new world of tenderness and of love. Love with 
her resembles nothing with which we are acquainted ; 
and, when I tell her that I love for the first time, and 
that until I knew her I have never loved, it seems to 
me that I am telling the truth. With her, every thing 
is tenderness and passion, with a freshness — if I dared 
to say so — a first fiower of youth, which seems to blos- 
som, or rather to bloom only for me. I do n’t know how 
it has been preserved for me thus ; it is, doubtless, an af- 
fair of the climate, which has all the effect of a Par- 
isian winter. I swear to you that she is perfect. And 
then she is so beautiful ! You know that it is a weak- 
ness with me to admire beauty. There are men who 
pretend to be indifferent to it ; who insist that, after a 
week, there is no difterence between one woman and 
another. It is doubtless a paradox invented by some 
4 


74 


CHRISTINE. 


victim of the errors of nature; but, it has never 
convinced me. I think, on the contrary, that it is pre- 
cisely when the calm succeeds to the first transports of 
happiness, that it is sweet to arrest one’s view on the 
pure lines and the gracious contours of a loved face, 
which still charms us in repose. This is what I find in 
Christine. ITothing with her disturbs the harmonious 
accord between the woman of one’s imagination, and the. 
woman one sees before him. iJ^ever was a more noble 
soul revealed under more noble traits. 

‘‘ Behold here the reason why I love her so dearly, 
with so complete a detachment from every thing that 
is not herself. You know, my friend, that I have al- 
ways looked for perfection — as if I was worthy of it ! 
One thing alone afflicts me ; not for myself — my ego- 
tism rejoices at it — but for her, and that is, her uncon- 
querable mistrust— -this fear of never doing enough 
when she has already done too much. This dreamy 
and vague inquietude which one meets so rarely among 
our own women, and which seems to be at the founda- 
tion of her soul, she sometimes forgets — but she always 
comes back to it. When I renew my oaths of love at 
her feet, I feel that she believes them w’hile she is lis- 
tening to them, and I suspect that she doubts them 
when she no longer hears them. Her adieus have some- 
thing heartrending about them : when we are about to 
separate only for four and twenty hours, you would 
think we were parting for ever ! 

One day, I overheard her mouraing as she was look- 
ing at me — ^ Oh, if I were only young !’ This word 
frightened me. Hoes two or three years — five or six at 
most, that she is older than I am — frighten her so much ? 
Hear creature ! I made as if I had not understood her ; 


CHRISTINE. 


75 


consolations are sometimes maladroit ; they lead peojde 
to believe that they need them, and with a nature so 
fine, that it comprehends too much, so delicate that the 
least thing wounds it ; every step becomes dangerous. 
When I perceive that these sad notions come over her, 
I take the best means to divert her attention from them. 
I pretend that her age is an artifice of her coquetry ; 
that a woman has no other evidence of the date of her 
birth, than that which she wears on her face ; that she 
is twenty years old in the morning, and eighteen in the 
evening ; and, I swear to you, Henri, that this is the 
truth. Hever did nature do more for a woman. The 
ices of the Horth have, without doubt, preserved in her 
a purity of blood, and years have brought her every 
thing, and have taken away nothing. 

‘‘ I can not, however, explain all this to her ; she al- 
ready reproaches me with examining her too closely — 
although she does not hesitate to do the same thing her- 
Sfelf. However that may be, Henri, you must love her 
without knowing her ; love her because she makes me 
happy ; very happy — in truth. I feel each day that my 
debt of gratitude to her is increasing for this happiness 
which she brings to me. She need not know this, how- 
ever, for she asserts that she only loves ingrates ; that 
she never does anything except for herself; and, that 
she will cease to love me the eve of the day on which 
I shall owe her any good will for anytliing. She is 
not, you see, like other women, and that is doubtless 
the reason why I love her. Ho one else would have 
been able to give me what I have received from her — - 
life of the heart and life of the soul. In her I find a 
force and a direction. She inspires me without appear- 
ing to jnistrust it ; what she wishes ought always to be. 


76 


CHRISTINE. 


You know I am rude in council ; but women, more 
than men, have light and strong hands, and I believe in 
truth, that they alone can lead certain men, as they alone, 
they say, can lead certain horses. Since 1 have known 
her, I feel that my life is better ; I am in a world of loftier 
ideas. It is all there, my friend ; everything is in the 
woman one loves ; otherwise there is nothing. Chris- 
tine is no blue-stocking, a silly species of woman whom 
I could never endure ; but she knows perfectly the lit- 
erature of her own country, and understands that of 
ours ; she explains to me what I do n’t know, and asks 
when she is ignorant ; and our hours pass rapidly, and 
charmingly away. We work like two children, pupil 
and teacher, each one in turn. 

“ Would you like an instance ? 

You know that I adore music, and that I cannot en- 
dure the piano ; one day I had been detained in Stock- 
holm all the day, and I came to see her very late ; as I 
approached, I saw that the saloon was lighted up. W e or- 
dinarily remain in the little boudoir . . . this word 

is not well chosen, for it is not a boudoir, as you under- 
stand it, and you will not find there any of those frivol- 
ities, more or less costly, with which frivolous women 
are apt to surround themselves. It is a sort of cabinet, 
between her saloon and her bed-chamber, where she has 
her books, some pictures, and a little portrait of me, 
taken when I was twelve years old, ^vhich she has copied 
in pastel, with a great deal of skill. She never re- 
ceives strangers there, and it is a sanctuary for us ; sa- 
cred as the bed-chamber of an English woman. 

‘ A visitor,’ I said to myself, seeing the illumination, 
and as it pleased me best to be alone, I was a little an- 
noyed at it. Approaching, I heard the sweet and sub- 


CHRISTINE. 


77 


dued strains of one of those newly-invented organs 
which carry music into every household. I inquired 
of the valet, w'ho was with the countess. 

“ ‘ ITo one,’ he replied ; ‘ madame is alone.’ 

“ I went in. Christine was seated before the organ ; 
she was playing some Swedish melodies and accompany- 
ing them in a low voice. I entered the room without 
making a noise, and listened. 

After preluding a little, as if she were making the 
acquaintance of the peculiarities of the instrument, she 
stopped a moment, and placed her head in her hand, as 
if to recover her souvenirs or her thoughts, then strik- 
ing two or three chords, she sung, with great sweetness 
and a profound charm, the popular song, beginning : 

‘ Both in the boundless desert lost,’ 

which we had heard when we were crossing the lake to- 
gether, and when we spoke of love for the first time. 
I did not allow her to finish it, but ran up to her, ex- 
claiming, ‘ Thanks, my dear friend, thanks.’ She re- 
ceived me with great cordiality ; with open hands and 
smiles on her lips. 

“ I wanted to give you this surprise,’ said she ; ‘ but 
would you believe that there was not an organ in Stock- 
holm ? I had to send for this to Hamburg. That is the 
reason you have not heard it before.’ What could I 
answer to this, Henri ? I took her hand and covered it 
with kisses, and insisted on her resuming her music. 

“ Her voice, without being powerful — and I like it 
the better thus— is of a pure tone,, and has the ring of 
silver. As to expression, it is a soul singing ; when I 
listen to her, ecstasy takes possession of me; music 
opens its white wings, and bears us away ! Hever did 


78 


CHRISTINE. 


Christine seem so beautiful to me as on this evening ; 
her face shone with a radiance which the painters give 
to the portrait of Samte CeciU de la Legende doree, it 
is the same, swelling with ecstasy, the same face, a little 
drawn down, and when one knows how to read it, one 
finds it radiant with re very and passion ; her thin hands 
and her fine fingers rapidly running over the keys, caress- 
ing the instrument, rather than touching it, awake 
the sleeping notes which, rising at her call, mount 
in the air, like the flight of melodious birds when one 
opens the cage. 

“ As she finished her song, two large tears, which 
trembled an instant on her eye-lashes, fell upon her 
cheek. I was profoundly moved. 

“ ‘ Christine,’ I said, ‘you should not play thus; it is 
not well for you.’ 

“ ‘ Have I contributed to your pleasure V she replied, 
with an adorable smile. 

“ She is a perfect being, my friend ; she has the same 
devotion in little things as in great ones ; the same for- 
getfulness of self, and the same pre-occupation of oth- 
ers. You see, now, Henri, what Mme. de Hudden is 
like, and you can judge whether I ought to attach my- 
self to her. I do not know yet how we shall arrange 
our future, but what I do know is, that nothing can ever 
separate us, one from the other.” 

HENRY DE PIENNES TO GEORGE DE SIMAINE : 

“ You hold your happiness in your hand ; do not 
open it. Happiness takes to itself wings and flies away ; 
it is a bird which never lights twice on the same branch. 
Proclaim the banns ! I am about to demand leave of 
absence, and would like to be the first to salute the 


CHRISTINE. 


79 


Countess de Simaine. I would write you a longer let- 
ter, but you are in no frame of mind to read long let- 
ters, and I want to profit by the occasion of a certain 
M. BorgilofiT, going to Stockholm, to send this. I knew 
him very well in Italy ; he arrives now from Florence, 
and goes to Stockholm to join the Eussian legation. 
The letter will probably be taken charge of by Mile. 
I^ad^je, his daughter, a brunette with blue eyes, who 
has turned the heads of all the young men here. At the 
last ball, the gallant King Louis took notice only of her. 
The sweet Lola Montez was so much annoyed that she 
broke three horsewhips the next day.” 

CimiSTINE TO MAIA DE BJORN. 

“ lie has been detained all the morning at the em- 
bassy, and he dines to-night with the ambassador. If 
I had not gone myself to Stockholm, where we met by 
accident, (you understand these accidents ?) I should not 
have seen him to-day. However, I did see him, and 
the day is not entirely lost. My time has been so much 
occupied that I have not had, for two whole months, a 
minute to write to you, my best, my only friend. I 
have not had time, in fact, to do anything. Hothing 
fills up one’s life like happiness. When he is here, it is 
him : and when he is not here, it is still him ! You see 
it is him always. The dear tyrant has taken me by 
storm, and how he has taken me to be sure ! 

I inhabit a veritable terrestrial paradise, laid out by 
an Englishman, who did not think it worthy of him, 
and he sold it. I have not yet encountered the serpent, 
and I am not the woman to listen to him if I should. 
Eve was only sixteen years old ; it was on that account 
that poor Adam was lost ! Mine has nothing to fear. 


8o 


CHRISTINE. 


M. de Simaine is tlie best of men. I do n’t know wheth- 
er love has blinded me, but he seems to me to be per- 
fection itself ; it humiliates me, and I think sometimes 
that I could wish him less good. He is the tenderest, 
the most ardent of men; and above aU, so true! It 
might very well happen that he would not love me, but 
he never could deceive me ; he is as incapable of that 
as he would be of a cowardice. Hot to love me ! Ah, 
my dear, this thought alone is for me, in the midst of 
my happiness, like the little black speck in the sky on a 
perfectly clear day, which, to the sailor indicates a tem- 
pest. When the thought comes to me I chase it away ; 
if it returns, and I give myself up to it, my reason wan- 
ders, my blood boils in my veins, beats in my temples, 
and takes complete possession of me, and I become wild. 
Hot to love me ! Could such a thing be ? Have I not 
bound him to me by all the ties known to tenderness 
and to love ? How it is that I rejoice that I have not 
always been happy. I thank those who caused me to 
Butfer. It is said that we must pay for our happiness 
sooner or later ; have I not paid for mine in advance ? 
For two days G-eorge has been in most charming humor 
with some unusual happiness blooming on his face. If 
you only knew how becoming the expression of joy is 
on his face 1 It was one of those blessed hours in which 
confidence is absolute, and in which each one can read 
the thoughts of the other. I asked him his age, which 
he has always hid from me, and he told me that he was 
only twenty-six years old. I am thirty-four ! Do you 
comprehend the difference, Mai'a, between these two 
numbers? To-day it is nothing, and no one sees the 
difference. Heither one of us has any particular age. 
I am the younger ; he the elder ; we are, both of us. 


CHRISTINE. 


8l 


twenty-eight years old, but soon he will be thirty and I 
forty. Can any one love a woman who is forty years 
old ? It is painful to me to thinly of that. George, if 
he thinks of it, dissimulates well ; but I believe that he 
does not think of it. I know his thoughts as he knows 
mine. 

‘‘ Yesterday we had a solemn interview. 

‘ Countess,’ said he, as he entered, ‘ will you excuse me 
if I present myself before you in a black cravat and in 
a frock coat V 

‘‘ ‘ My dear George, it seems to me that it is your cus- 
tom when we are alone.’ 

“ ^ Yes,’ he replied ; ‘ but to-day I am about to do a 
thing a little out of the common way.’ 

^ Speak rapidly ; you frighten me.’ 

‘ Already, countess V 

‘‘I swear to you, Maia, that I did not know 
what he was going to say to me. I was far from 
suspecting. 

‘‘ ‘ Well, what is it V I demanded, a little troubled ' 
in spite of myself; ‘you make me afraid with your 
mysterious airs.’ 

“ And as I was withdrawing my hand, which he was 
still holding in his : 

“ ‘ I am come,’ he said, ‘ to demand this hand for all 
time ; this little hand that you are already striving to 
(Withdraw from me.’ 

I was overcome with emotion which prevented me 
from answering. He thought that I was disposed to 
hesitate ; he said nothing, but turned pale and 1 felt his 
hand tremble in mine. Oh, Maia, how happy I was to 
know that I was thus loved ! 

“ ‘ George,’ I said to him, ‘ I love you. You know 
4 * 


82 


CHRISTINE. 


that I love you ! But your demand is so sudden ! I 
did not think — you will not exact ’ 

^ I exact nothing, Christine,’ he replied in a sad 
tone. 

‘‘ ‘ My friend,’ I said, ‘ I am ready to do all that you 
desire. I wish for everything that you would wish for. 
You shall never suffer either for me, or by me, George ; 
but in your turn be good and give me a week to reflect 
upon it, I ask it as well for you as for myself.’ 

He consented and I sat down to the organ, I 
could not talk any more. I played the airs that he 
loves. I suppose I played well, for when I looked up 
at him, I saw big tears in his eyes. But my dear Maia, 
I had no need of a week. Pshaw ! I was already de- 
termined. I shall never be Countess de Simaine ! He 
wishes it, that is enough for me. Oh, do not be 
deceived, I write this confession with profound grief. 
It is my best hope of happiness in this world, that I 
renounce, I know, but I feel that it is necessary for 
him ! He will never know the price of the sacrifice. 
But you, Maia, you will comprehend and you will pity 
me. To be the wife of a man that one loves, to be 
with him, through life and through death, always ! — 
always, this great world of human eternity ; to go with 
him hand in hand, under the eyes of men, under the 
eye of God, with the favor of all, to have nothing 
more to fear, neither sadness nor white hairs, nor isola- 
tion of the last days, but to grow old together grace- 
fully, in the midst of dear children who love you, and 
make your lives happy in rejuvenating you with their 
youth ! Is not here to be found the greatest happiness 
which can be showered upon a woman ? and do you 
not know that at the bottom of the heart, so soon as we 


CHRISTINE. 


83 


love, that this is all the happiness that we desire ? Do 
• you believe that anything, even in the happiest liaisons^ 
could ever supply this ? And this happiness which is 
offered to me I refuse. I refuse it on his account. I 
have no desire to lead him to a position which he will 
ever repent of. I would not profit by the impulses of 
his generous heart, I would not like to be ten years 
hence the wife of a young husband ; I would not forge 
the fetters which would bind him, and which he could 
not break when he may feel their weight. I know that 
I am sacrificing myself, but is not sacrifice under one 
form or another a virtue in woman ? And then, if I 
must tell you, in sacrificing myselt* for him, I experi- 
ence, I know not what bitter happiness and dolorous 
contentment. I love him dearly, for there is no 
egotism in my love. I promise myself to render him 
happy, and I would keep my word, come what may 
come ! I believe that he will love me a great while 
yet, and there are moments when I am afraid that he 
may not ! 

I know nothing of his pa^, and you know very 
well, that this absolute ignorance is sometimes a cruel 
torture ! hTo, I know nothing of him ; but it seems to 
me that his nature, so delicate, ought to be terribly 
variable. 'No one, I think is more capable of being 
rapidly and furiously excited; but can he maintain the 
same emotion long ? This facility of impression which 
renders him so enchanting, does it not render him at 
the same time incapable of constancy, and is not the 
danger with him all on the side of the charm ? What 
frightens me often about him is his ready appreciation 
of beauty, which predisposes him to enthusiasm for all 
who realize the ideal of his eyes — but who ought so 


84 


CHRISTINE. 


readily to turn him away from it when disillusion 
comes. ’Would you believe that it is from the most* 
exquisite and the most tender of his homages that I 
suffer most ; because I am persuaded that he will love 
me no longer, so soon as I merit them less ? Do not 
say that I am too subtle, if you knew what one becomes 
when one’s whole heart and soul are turned towards 
a single and unique thought ! In your wise and calm 
happiness, you may find these follies and these terms 
perhaps, chimerical, but when one loves, as I love, one 
must always have a|fi unquiet heart. Tliose who do not 
fear, do not love. 

‘‘ Adieu, Mai'a, do not preserve this letter, it is a little 
sad. It rains and I am cold. To-morrow he will come 
again and with him all my joy. To-morrov/ the sky 
will be blue, the breeze tepid, and my soul in peace. 
Again, adieu, preserve your friendship for me, always 
the same, let there be in it no yesterday, no to-morrow.” 

MADAME DE BJORN TO CHRISTINE : 

I grieve for you and I admire you, you make me 
envious of you and you make me afraid, I know 
nothing of these grand sentiments. Do not write me 
any more similar letters. Since reading that, I have 
lived only in trembling. I feel that you are capable 
of such a love as you describe, but I do n’t know if 
there be a man in the world who merits it. I love ray 
dear baron very much, but I am calmer and so is he, 
and we are not any more unhappy for it. Although I 
have not your imagination, I doubt whether you have 
many pleasant hours. But this life is a dream ; have a 
care of the waking. Were I in your place I should 
accept the offer. You will be handsome a long time ; 


CHRISTINE. 


85 


that belongs to your family. M. de Bjorn who adoi*es you, 
told me that your mother was youthful and gay at fifty. 
Marriage has its good side, and if nothing be perfect in 
this world, it is perhaps the best thing among the bad 
ones. I am not preaching to you, although I am some- 
what of a Puritan, I preach only to myself. But in 
the point of view even of happiness, marriage is still 
the most certain of the guarantees. An inconstant is 
often restrained hy the sweet voice of a little angel 
crying to him, papa !” He stops at the tlireshold, 
looks around, sees the mother who smiles — and remains 
at home. If he goes, he returns soon. But the others ! 
once gone, one sees them no more ! They are the birds 
of passage which sing on tlie branches, stealing the fruit 
and fljdng away with it ! ‘ Think of all this again ! 

“ Loved as you are you will be punished, your hap- 
piness will pass you by. Your happiness ! In secur- 
ing it do you not also secure his ? Here is a man to be 
pitied because the most amiable woman in Sweden is a 
few years older than he ; that is to say, has more soul, 
more devotion, more true tenderness, for it is only at 
our age, that one knows how to love, my dear; at 
twenty a woman loves love, at thirty she loves the lover 
and the husband ; above all when she has the happiness 
to realize that the two make but one ! 

And the poor major ! he has a good heart, Chris- 
tine, but I am not eloquent enough to plead lost causes ! 
there is one who loves you ! It is you who have had 
him sent off on this mission I It was not a bad idea. 
It is very well for a woman to be cousin to the 
minister ! 

If your protection could only send us to Paris ! I 
carry Copenhagen on my shoulders. Adieu. My 


86 


CHRISTINE. 


friendship attends yon. Endeavor not to have need of 
it. It is capital, the interest of which you do not 
touch. Pardon me this financial comparison, they have 
been talking money around me the whole evening. It is 
the malady of the day, and I believe it is contagious.” 


CHAPTER IX. 

CHRISTINE — LOVE IN A COTTAGE. 

The summer first and then the autumn ran away in 
the enjoyment of a happiness without alloy for the 
lovers. Have those whose lives are only seasons of 
happiness any right to complain ? They lived, one for 
the other. Christine arrayed herself for George ; this 
was her morning occupation ; she knew the head-dress 
he preferred, and the costume which pleased him most. 
Above all she found in this, constant pre-occupation of 
her thoughts with him, which is for lovers like sweet 
flattery to the heart ; it is by such signs that we rec- 
ognize love. When one loves less than this, one does 
not love at all. Four years beyond the thirtieth had 
passed over Christine’s head, like the centuries over 
the eternal marble of those statues, whose beauty they 
render only more brilliant and more perfect still. 
Sometimes in the morning an almost imperceptible 
wrinkle appeared around her eye ; sometimes it would 
be in the blue net-work of the veins which ran over 
her white forehead, leading one to suppose that the del- 
icate blade of a razor had just passed over it, that was 
all. And when, like the venus-aphrodite, she stepped 


CHRISTINE. 


87 


out from her cold hath, shaking the liquid pearls from 
her disheveled hair, it was the springtime of her beauty. 
She had taken great care of her haft* for fifteen years, 
and it was now so thick that it seemed brown, although 
it was really blonde, so deeply was the golden, browned 
into the great mass ; but this gold, which was merged 
into bronze, did not cease to be golden ; this was seen 
when her head, reclining on tlie back of the gothic 
hiuteuil, received the rays of the sun which fell upon 
it, penetrating it and making it radiant around her 
forehead, like an aureole of brilliant light. Her mouth, 
when she smiled, had the freshness of an infant’s, and 
made one think of a budding flower. When a young 
girl, Christine thought little of her beauty ; I could 
easily imagine that she was ignorant of it herself. 
How, however, she knew that she was handsome ; was 
proud of it, and it made her happy. Emotion espe- 
cially, transfigured her, her soul shone through all the 
features of her face, animating them. She was easily 
excited, and a sort of interior light illuminated her 
face, like those beautiful vases of fine sculptures 
which are lighted up entirely from within. Her eye, 
a little drawn down, like an unfolded peach leaf, so 
calm and so sweet in repose, threw off its magnetic 
effluvia, and passion breathed in its smile. Then it 
exhaled from her like a charm, to which it was neces- 
sary to submit. But it was one which might surprise 
you often, and which you might see always. She had 
nothing to hide ; because she was all truth, noble and 
grand, and it 'was one particular character of her 
beauty, that in looking upon her, one felt oneself to be 
better. The count, in taking her by the hand, entered 
with her into a world of whose existence he had no 


88 


CHRISTINE. 


suspicion ; that mystical world of the northern races, 
in which the women know how to purify love by ele- 
vating it. She opened to him unknown horizons, and 
so extensive, that his eye could not penetrate their 
depth. ISTever were two lovers in more perfect ra^jpoH 
with each other ; this accord was so complete, that even 
when they were separated, by a sort of mysterious 
union, of which the bond was never broken, they each 
felt every contre-coup which atfected the other, not- 
withstanding the distance which separated them. 


CHAPTER X. 

LAST DAY AT THE VILLA — A PARTING — RETURN OP THE 

MAJOR — LIFE AT STOCKHOLM. 

Again Sweden was shivering under its mantle of 
snow, and the city became the great point of attraction. 
The chateaux were depopulated, the people abandoned 
their parks, the cottages were given up to solitude, and 
in the villas which strewed the borders of the lakes, 
the sounds of ‘‘ revelry by night ” were hushed for the 
season. Christine returned to the city later than the 
others ; she came finally, but not without regret. 

The count went to spend the last day in the country 
with her. It had snowed all night. The paths 
through which they were in the habit of walking in 
their daily promenades were filled with snow. The 
basin of the fountain was frozen over ; the fir-trees 
shook their frost-powdered heads with a melancholy 
air, and the frightened birds hopped from branch to 


CHRISTINE. 


89 


iDrancli, filling tlie atmosphere with their frightened 
cries. George and Christine breakfasted together. To- 
wards midday the sun showed his pale face between 
two clouds. They went out for a moment to take a 
last look at the park, the woods, the gai*den, and all 
the dear places where they had spent so many happy 
days. But the cold was intense ; Christine could not 
bear it, and they returned to the house, to gather up 
the souvenirs of their love. The day following they 
were to meet again in Stockholm. They parted now, 
however, with anguish of heart. George stopped, hes- 
itatingly, on the threshold he had so often joyously 
crossed. The inanimate witnesses of our happiness al- 
ways retain a part of it ; nature takes away a portion 
of our souls ; we only discover this at the moment of 
making our adieus. 

The major had returned a week or two before from 
his tour of inspection, and now went with the Cheva- 
lier de Yalborg to find Christine at the cottage, and 
they took her back to the city. The major was more 
impressive than ever, and not in the least discouraged ; 
his traveling had done him good ; he still had his con- 
soling doubts. These French do not know how to 
love,” he said to himself ; “ their most ardent flames 
are like the burning of straw, which is brilliant, but 
not lasting. My turn will come. And if it should 
not,” he continued, with less assurance, why, I shall 
be always near her, to defend her and console her ; and 
that is no undesirable position to hold.” 

Their life at Stockholm was nearly the same that it 
had been at Haga ; the countess was surrounded by 
her habitual society. George, the Baron de Yendel, 
and the Chevalier de Yalborg formed the nucleus of it. 


90 


CHRISTINE. 


Several supernumeraries were gathered around them. 
The relations of George and the baron denoted that 
they understood each other better ; the shrewdest eye 
would never have detected between them the least 
appearance of rivalry. It seemed as though there was 
a secret accord between them both, to render life around 
their idol charming ; not to throw over her the shadow 
even of a pre-occupation, or of an anxiety ; one knew 
how to hide his joy, the other his sadness. Each one 
presented to Christine a cheerful face. In juxtaposi- 
tion with each other, they observed in her presence the 
courteous and polite forms of good society. When 
they passed the threshold of the saloon, they no longer 
knew themselves, which sometimes embarrassed the 
chevalier comically enough, when he found himself be- 
tween the two, without knowing to which to speak, or 
which to follow. The countess rarely Avent out. It 
was necessary, however, for her to appear in the saloons 
occasionally, and she always shone there like a beauti- 
ful star, which traverses the sky and illuminates the 
night. She soon perceived that George was always 
more demonstrative in his love after one of these bril- 
liant displays which they made in the gay world. 
Others would have rejoiced at it ; she was rather dis- 
posed to be troubled about it. Her delicate nature 
would not permit her to draw any advantage from it, 
even to the profit of her love ; she thought that these 
were unfortunate triumphs, which were able to flatter 
her pride, but which at the same time humiliated her 
heart. She did not wish that variety should ever run 
away Avith the least part of tenderness. 

The count, hoAvever, had his duties of position ; she 
comprehended them and submitted to them, with that 


CHRISTINE. 


9 % 


abnegation which is always found at the bottom of true 
love. He was obliged to appear everywhere ; but, 
he often began and always finished his evenings with 
her. Social reunions of the fashionable world of Swe- 
den are in the full height of their glory about ten 
o’clock in the evening. George, after concluding his 
official duties for the day, was in the habit of going* to 
the house of the countess to ask for a cap of tea;.sho 
waited for him, counting the minutes. "When he w*as 
late, she would stop the clock. 

The world had some suspicion of their liaism / but, 
the world has more discretion than it gets credit for. 
If it lacerates without mercy those who openly offendj^ 
it, it is, on the contrary, full of indulgence for those^ 
who show some regard for the proprieties which are its/ 
supreme law. Christine was adored even by the wo- 
men ; and no whisper had ever tarnished the fine dia- 
mond of her honor. Those who have any heart — and 
they will be the smallest number — admire from a dis-' 
tance, and not without some secret envy — ^this azure 
sky of their love which is never veiled by any cloud. 
Some were astonished that a Frenchman should exhibit 
so much constancy ; and, in expectation of the ap- 
proaching abandonment, they took the precaution to 
grieve in advance for Christine. In Sweden, as in Nor- 
way, they always take us for the grandchildren of the 
playful marquises of the eighteenth century. The 
mother of two or three daughters somewhat advanced 
in years, and not in demand for wives, alone discovered 
that Christine did wrong to monopolize so desirable 
a person, rendering him quite useless for any one else ; 
but, she did not constitute the majority any more than 
one swallow makes the spring-time. 


92 


CHRISTINE. 


CHAPTEE XI. 


AN ENTERTAINMENT — NADEJE — FIRST UNFAITHFULNESS — RE- 
CONCILIATION — DOUBTS AND UNCERTAINTIES. 

One evening, at an entertainment given by the Aus- 
trian ambassador, George, after having played several 
games of whist with one general and two diplomatists, 
became fatigued ; and, wishing to retire, called for his 
sledge. As he was passing out of the saloon, he overheard 
two ladies talking about him in a subdued tone. They 
were laughing and apparently enjoying themselves great- 
ly at his expense. One of them was a coquettish Swede, 
towards whom he had committed the unpardonable of- 
fence of not paying court. 

“ Is he only allowed to stay out until ten o’clock ?” 
inquired the other, in a dry and sarcastic voice to her 
friend, who was stifling a wicked laugh behind her fan. 

‘‘ Oh !” replied the Swede, ‘‘ he is well looked after ; 
but, we must allow that he is very docile — this justice 
at least we must award him !” 

One must be truly strong to carry the weight of a 
true love nobly, with one’s feet upon the earth and 
one’s head in the sky. In this, women are more suc- 
cessful than men ; a great passion preserves them al- 
ways from little ones ; men defend themselves with far 
less skill. George ought to have despised such miser- 
able raillery. He however felt himself wounded in the 
heart hy this arrow, barbed with ridicule which he could 
not draw out, now it had penetrated there, and vanity 
whispered in his ear all sorts of evil counsels. 


CHRISTINE. 93 

He slackened liis pace ; and, instead of going away, 
entered a side gallery and passed into the saloon. 

“ Pardieu !” said he to himself, “ Christine will not 
die if I should be half an hour late. She likes to re- 
tire late. How this woman has held on to me for a 
whole year !” and he looked in a mirror to arrange his 
dress. “ Ah said he, looking at his cravat ; “ she 
tied this knot !” A charming souvenir came to him 
and changed the current of his thoughts. “ I w^as 
about to be unjust for the first time,” he said ; poor, 
dear creature, how much more she is worth to me than 
the whole world beside. If she had heard me !” He 
started again to go away, but his bad angel whispered 
in his ear, “ There are two ladies in the saloon w^ho are 
laughing at you.” Do not listen to them,” said his 
heart. Christine is waiting for you.” ‘‘ Is it not on 
her account that you ought to prove to them that you 
are your own master % Christine would demand it of 
you if she were here. Do it then for her !” and he 
returned to the ball-room. 

“ Here you are still, my dear count,” said Axel, com- 
ing to meet him. What will they say in the Rue de 
la ReineP 

George frowned. ‘^Kothing, I imagine,” he answer- 
ed, dryly. But, chevalier, tell me who is that young 
lady in the pale green robe, who is talking with the 
Baroness de Strom ?” 

‘‘ It is a young lady.” 

“ There is no doubt of that ; but, who is she ?” 

‘‘ Do you not know her then ?” 

If I did, I should not ask you.” 

Well, well,” continued the chevalier, ‘^this is sin- 
gularly flattering to the amiable countess. How, do 


94 


CHRISTINE. 


you not know tke lady even by sight ? slie has been 
here a week. She is the new queen of the season ; the 
belle of the belles; the incomparable ISTadeje — Mile. 
Borgiloff. 

JSTo, truly ; this is the first time that I have seen 
her.” 

“ Is it possible ? you go out but little then.” 

“ I ! I go out every evening.” 

“ Then it must be because she comes late and you go 
away early. There is no harm in that, only you have 
lost the debut of an elegant woman in our saloons ; but, 
that is a misfortune easily repaired.” 

“You will assist me, chevalier;” and the count, go- 
ing towards the door, examined Mile. Eorgiloff with an 
attention which, perhaps, Christine might have found a 
little too scrupulous. 

As a fine example of feminine beauty, hladeje w'as 
far from meriting the eulogy which the chevalier had 
passed upon her. She had a great deal of brilliancy ; 
and, in a circle. of women, would always be the one who 
would first command notice — but, she excited attention 
more readily than she attracted sympathy. 

There was a hardness of the lines of the facial an- 
gles, too distinctly pronounced — and, notwithstanding 
the firm and velvety roundness of her cheeks, one sus- 
pected the protuberance of the cheek-bones ; her hand 
small, but hard in the palm, dry in the clasping, with a 
strong thumb and fingers, slightly swelling at the pha- 
langes and squarely cut, indicated the positive spirit, 
tenacious wish, and ambitious ardor of the woman 
who determined to succeed ; her nose very short (a little 
more and it would have been thrown into the shade), 
revealed the Kalmuc origin of her family, only recently 


CHRISTINE. 


95 


plunged into the great current of western civilization. 
Her figure was charming — better and more perfectly 
formed than ordinarily happens to young women ; a 
mouth a little large, perhaps, but with lips as red as 
the ripe pomegranate, revealing when she laughed, or 
when she talked, the humid and pearly color of her 
white teeth ; her beautiful hair, proudly done up on the 
top of her head, leaving her temples uncovered — with- 
out a pearl, without a riband, without a fiower — fell 
again in ringlets upon her neck. Her long eye seemed 
to open on hinges, like those of the feline race ; passion 
was capable of dilating it largely, and she used it much 
aftei^ the manner of the Chinese women, which gave 
to her physiognomy an effect singularly piquant. She 
played upon it as she would have done upon a musical 
instrument of which she had become a perfect mistress. 
Her expression had a complete gamut of rays so 
piercing and so vivacious, so softened in its faint lan- 
guors, that one might suppose she could see through a 
veil of tears. Many women were handsomer — one 
rarely meets one more enchanting ; but, it was not with 
the qualities of her mind that she bewitched any one. 

Hadeje was not rich, and this was the clay foot to 
her statue of gold. Her best fortune was the protection 
of the czar and the talent of her father, who was 
not high-born enough ever to arrive at the first rank in 
a career, where nobility is often the highest of merits. 
A disgrace or an illness might ruin her. Having no 
other independence than that found in the assured pa- 
trimony of her family, she desired to give a solid base 
to her future by marriage. This constant preoccupation 
dominated all the impulses of her youth ; if she did not 
stifle them ; she did not listen to them. At twenty years 


96 


CHRISTINE. 


of age she had adopted her course of conduct. Educated 
by her father in the midst of men ; mingling in all the ca - 
pitals of Europe with the most intelligent society, and 
profiting hy it all ; with that facility of assimilation which 
is the property of certain races, she put to the service of 
her little interests, the most powerful means, which she 
directed with all the calmness and cold artifice of a diplo- 
mat in petticoats. Having hut very recently arrived in 
Stockholm, she had only as yet been presented in two or 
three saloons ; but the secretary of her ambassador had 
instructed her marvelously about the notables of the 
court and the city. She made her own notes. Decided 
not to remain unmarried any longer than was necessary, 
she pushed on towards matrimony without making any 
false steps on the world’s slippery path. One little 
thing alone, she yet wanted ; and that was a husband. 

When she saw the count return to the saloon, Hadeje’s 
physiognomy underwent a change, too sudden to be very 
sincere. She listened no longer to the little baroness 
who continued her uncharitable remarks. She raised 
her innocent eyes to the ceiling, as if to call heaven to 
witness that it concealed a shade of reverie ; then she 
approached the mantelpiece and with her fingers ex- 
tracted the bouquet from one of the roses in a china 
cup. She turned her shoulders towards the count with 
the sweep of back of a caryatid. The count could see 
her face, but imperfectly. Nadeje, who knew this very 
well, exposed at first only her profile ; but she was 
willing enough also to show voluntarily her opulent 
bust and the beautiful ornaments on her neck. 

George examined her very carefully without perceiv- 
ing that she was following the movements of his eyes 
in the mirror. 


CHRISTINE. 97 

“ Introduce me to tliis beautv said he to the cheva- 
lier. 

“ It would appear that it is my peculiar privilege to 
present you to the ladies ; I forewarn you, however, 
that I shall not answer for the consequences.” 

They advanced together towards the young lady, 
who suddenly turned around, at the moment when they 
were not more than two steps from her, with a gesture 
of surprise which seemed to be altogether natural ; her 
lips opened as though she were about to utter a cry, and 
one could see, running over her snowy shoulders, the 
shiver of a sudden awaking. Hone of these details 
escaped the young diplomat. 

Axel introduced the count and all three began to 
talk, standing near tlie chimney, at this moment de- 
serted. The chevalier imagining that he was no longer 
wanted, soon found an excuse to leave the others to 
themselves. The count, without perceiving it, com- 
mitted now his first infidelity. When a man feels a 
desire to be left alone with a young and pretty woman, 
it is an offence to another — to the one he loves. 

The orchestra sounded the first notes of a polka, and 
George bowing to the young lady, offered her his hand, 
smiling ; she put her’s into his with charming grace, at 
the same moment that two young ofiicers stepped up to 
ask her to dance. Dancing had not yet begun ; but 
from a certain moving of chairs and of sofas, George 
perceived that they were about to dance a quadrille ; a 
dance which begins too soon, and finishes too late for 
some ; while for others, it is directly the contrary. M. de 
Simaine glanced at the clock and saw that it wanted a 
quarter to eleven. ‘‘ My poor countess !” thought he ; 
at what hour shall I reach her !” Diplomat as he was, he 
5 


98 


CHRISTINE. 


could not entirely hide his feelings ; a shadowpassed over 
his face and l^adeje felt a nervous trembling of the 
hand she held in tier’s. She raised her eyes, and looking 
at him with one of her sweetest looks : “ Count ; ” 
said she, in a timid and submissive voice ; you asked 
me to dance a polka ; I would not condemn you to a 
cotillion !” looking as if she would go to her seat ; one 
knows when a cotillion begins, but not when it will 
finish;” and she attemped to disengage her hand. 
George retained it with a constrained politeness and 
observed her more closely than before. She, blushing, 
lowered her eyes and appeared to be troubled like a 
young virgin who listens to 'the voice of love for the 
first time in her life. 

It is true he answered ; that I had not hoped 
for so much ; but if I demanded less, I am only charm- 
ed at having obtained more.” 

Hadeje leaned upon the count’s arm with more aban- 
don, and he could see on her face an expression of 
happy acknowledgment. 

The leader of the band now gave the sign for the 
first evolutions, and the dance w^ent on ; the figures pro- 
gressing in capricious order. By turns the couples lost 
themselves in the crowd, and resumed their places at 
will. Sometimes the cavaliers chose their dames, and 
then the ladies chose their cavaliers. George and 
Nadeje were evidently pleased with each other and 
showed their preference ; and soon they came to regular 
coquetting. George found himself, not without secret 
pleasure, on his ancient ground. He had lived at the 
feet of the countess for more than a year, without per- 
mitting himself the most innocent distraction, even 
with another. It is true, that he never had the denre. 


CHRISTINE. 


99 


but be did not think liis merit any less. He said to 
himself, that few men in his place, could have pushed 
the scruples of fidelity so far, and that, up to a certain 
point, it was even giving Christine a proof of defiance, 
not to dare to amuse himself with another woman, as 
if she had any thing to fear in the comparison. The 
conclusion of all this was, that he must pay a little 
court to Hadeje. It is true that the young woman 
displayed an entire arsenal of attractions for her con- 
quest ; she was by times inclined to raillery and mel- 
ancholy; sparkling with spirit or immersed, in quiet. 
She was too skillful to permit herself to make the most 
indirect allusion to Christine, and M. de Simaine was 
not a man to permit it ; but she knew how, on two 
or three occasions, to speak very delicately of the great 
sentiments of the heart, as something so beautiful, that 
we were bound to admire them wherever me meet them ; 
but so rare, that when we see them, we may be ex- 
cused if we become a little envious. All this was indi- 
cated, rather than said, with that supreme tact, which 
knows how to do it without wounding ; gliding smooth- 
ly over everything and resting upon nothing. Then 
Nadeje danced a merveille • which, of course, added 
great persuasion to her words. The Swedish cotillion 
has steps of a character which develop the grace of 
their women and heighten the elegance of their beauty. 

Hadeje knew it and abused it. In the midst of the 
figures which begin the emancipation of the ladies, 
permitting some liberty in their choice, she made the 
count the object of all her attentions ; she solicited the 
handkerchief, with the humble and amorous regard of 
the slave who waits the good pleasure of his master ; 
she ofiered him the bouquet with the gesture of a sultan 


lOO 


CHRISTINE. 


selecting his favorite. When, she was led to the fantenil 
for lej^as du miroir, all the dancers defiled before her like 
an army of pretenders ; a light hand passed rapidly over 
the glass seemed to efface each new image ; it was the 
sign of refusal. George came in his turn, and being the 
last, he bent his knee before her, on a velvet cushion. 
A second too long, perhaps she contemplated his face 
in the mirror where she perceived a shade of anxiety ; 
then stooping towards him, she extended her hand, as 
if to raise him, and they waltzed together. She danced 
as if she were fatigued, and George to sustain her, held 
her more firmly in his arms and more closely to his 
breast ; she seemed to bend and incline her head to his 
shoulder ; but all at once, disengaging herself, she cried : 

“ Enough, I pray you.” 

The count led her to a seat, apparently as much 
troubled as she was. 

Everything comes to an end in this world, even cotil- 
lions. The count looked at his watch ; it was nearly 
one o’clock, and he departed in haste. He had been 
intoxicated with Hadeje ; a veritable intoxication, be- 
cause there was trouble in his happiness. It was no 
longer the emotion without alloy which he had felt a 
year before, in waltzing with Christine. He experienced, 
on the contrary, that vague inquietude which they say 
precedes remorse. The night air, dry and cold, calmed 
the unhealthy exaltation of his thoughts. “-And Chris- 
tine !” he exclaimed to himself for the first time in two 
hours. He had never been guilty before, not even in 
thought of so long an infidelity. It was not possible to 
go to her at this hour ; he, however, ordered his coach- 
man to go by the way of the Rue de la Reine, It was 
not his way home. 


CHRISTINE. 


lOI 


The devil must have got possession of him !” mur- 
mured the coachman, putting his fur collar up around 
his neck, “ to tell me to make such a detour in this sharp 
north wind !” and he discharged his anger upon his 
poor horses who went off upon the gallop. 

The countess’s bed-chamber overlooked the street ; 
it was lighted up yet, not by the soft glimmer of a 
night-lamp, as if to watch the sleeper, but by the bril- 
liant light of candles which announces sleeplessness 
and waiting. Christine had not yet retired. 

Poor soul !” he said, burying his head in his hands ; 
“ she watches and she suffers !” 

Wlien the egotism of bad passions has not yet petrified 
the heart, we cannot submit to any more cruel torture 
than the thought of a suffering experienced for us, or 
caused by us, in the heart of a noble and devoted woman. 
These griefs are poignant with us all ; and if one merit 
the name of man — until the calm and sweet serenity of 
happiness shall be brought back again into the other’s 
mind — nothing can cure them nor console them. 

The horses, who were well acquainted with the habits 
of their master, had of themselves, slackened their pace. 
‘‘Home !” cried the count to his driver, looking up for 
the last time to the window. “ Christine ! Christine !” 
he said to himself, “ it is you alone that I love !” 

The evening before he would not have felt the neces- 
sity of talking to himself. One never protests so strong- 
ly as when one begins to doubt. He entered his own 
home cursing Hadeje. This was too much ; it would 
have been better not to think of her. 

On awaking in the morning, the recollections of what 
had passed the night before, haunted him somewhat 
confusedly, and he endeavored to justify himself in his 


102 


CHRISTINE. 


own eyes ; the better to justify himself in the eyes of 
the countess. After all, it was not so 'very great a 
wrong to be late in coming from a ball and to have 
danced a cotillion with a Russian lady, whom he had 
seen now for the first time. It is true that Christine 
was kept waiting ; but had he not been with her a few 
hours before, and had she not told him a hundred times, 
not to deprive himself of any pleasure on her account ? 
Without doubt ! but had he not always replied, that he 
had no pleasure except in her society ? Finally, if he 
had committed any fault at all, it must be a very slight 
one. 

A voice whispered to him, that in love there are no 
little faults, and that one is very guilty so soon as there 
is one. It was the first pain he had ever voluntarily 
caused the countess, and nothing had yet blunted with- 
in him the sharp point of remorse. 

Christine’s servant came to inquire for him at eight 
o’clock. He announced that he was well, and that he 
would call on the countess at noon. It is not en regie 
to call upon a lady earlier in the day. Christine receiv- 
ed him with that grace which he had never observed in 
any one else. He saw that she had not slept, and he 
thought that she had been crying. These first griefs 
of love which have not had time to ravage the soul, 
increase the beauty of the face, over which there is 
spread a sweet tint of languor and of melancholy. 
George was touched and wished to defend himself, 
though no one had attacked him. 

“ I was only anxious answered Christine ; “ do not 
mal e me sad.” 

If you are sad said he ; “lam in fault ; I am in 
the wrong, T xivistine, when you are no longer happy.’^ 


CHRISTINE. 103 

He fell upon his knees and taking her hand, added ; I 
will rise only when I am pardoned.” 

Then get np and sin no more said she, smiling. 
All at once becoming grave, she added : 

“If yon could know, George, what I suffered last 
night ; if you could know all my anxieties, all my fears I 
But you are here now and you love me !” 

“ With all my soul, Christine !” 

“ It is well ! with you, happiness returns to me. How 
let us talk. This ball, then, which has been the occa- 
sion of your forgetting me was very fine, was it not ?” 

“ It was brilliant, like all official balls, with epaulettes 
and diamonds ! Whoever has seen one, has seen them 
all. I do not wish to see any more of them ; let those 
look for pleasure, who have not yet found happiness.” 

The antithesis was as old as the world and worthy 
of being rhymed in the confectioner’s Hew Year’s mot- 
to-papers. It did not the less produce its effect. The 
serenity of the countess was entirely restored, and with 
that blind confidence, common to generous natures, 
she was the first to speak of the necessities of the offi- 
cial position, of the exigencies of the world, and of the 
duties which his name and rank imposed upon JVI. 
de Simaine. “ Only when you must stay so late she 
added, “ I will go out myself. I shall not pass then 
a whole evening without seeing you.” 

The treaty of peace was signed, the name of Hadeje 
was not mentioned, and the countess had not even a 
suspicion. Christine forgot all about it, and George 
remembered it only to surround the object of his 
affections with more delicate attentions and more 
studious cares than ever ; it was like a second spring- 
time of their love, with more fire tlian the former. 


104 


CHRISTINE. 


Christine was by turns frightened and charmed at it ; 
sometimes she abandoned herself to the happy impres- 
sion, as a woman does who feels herself to be devotedly 
loved and who places her happiness in her love ; some- 
times she experienced a secret trouble accompanying 
these feverish ardors and surprised herself, regretting 
the more equable tenderness of their earlier days. 
Those only, who do not know the heart of man, would 
prefer passion to tendernesaj George, hoAvever, con- 
tinued to go on leading a double existence. He went 
into society more than ever. "Was it not Christine who 
wished it ? She was not in good health, and did not go 
out of the house for nearly a month. George during 
this month did not miss a single day in coming to 
finish the evening with her. We must add also that 
everywhere else he went he met Hadeje. 

They had engaged in a regular flirtation, and people 
remarked it. It is true that the coquetries of the 
young Russian did not entangle his heart, but they 
occupied him when she was present, and preoccupied 
him when she was absent ; this was too much. He 
enjoyed the graces of her wit with a dangerous if not 
culpable complaisance. 

George’s intentions were good ; even his enemies 
were never able to reproach him with anything but 
weakness and irresolution of character. But is not de- 
cision, that virile virtue, necessary to him^who holds in 
his hands the happiness of a woman? Discontented 
with himself he now became more so with others. He 
lost by degrees the serene equanimity of his humor. 
He became nervous and irritable and experienced from 
time to time the necessity to get angry. In these 
moments he would lament the perfection of the count- 


CHRISTINE. 


105 


ess, which gave him no pretext even to complain. He 
was sleeping on a volcano, which did not explode, but 
it was easily seen at what cost he succeeded in control- 
ling it. That alone sufficed to make the despair of 
Christine, a mute despair without tears, without cries. 
Christine was one of those beautiful creatures, for 
whom devotion seems to be the first of necessities, and 
who are never happy except in the enjoyment of 
the happiness which they confer. The uneasiness of 
George could not long escape her, she was too discreet 
to reflect on him and to demand the cause, and too 
delicate not to suffer from it. From various symptoms 
she soon discovered that the thought of another woman 
was troubling him. She had no proof ; but those who 
love, have they not a sort of magnetic divination which 
teaches them more than words ? Christine besides, 
surrounded to-day with homage, inspiring the most 
noble and the best people with chivalric sentiments, 
and for whom her friends had a worship rather than an 
affection, had been unfortunate in her early youth ; her 
heart had been bruised in the hard experiences of an un- 
happy marriage ; she had by degrees been thrown back 
upon herself ; she had lived in the midst of society in a 
true solitude of heart, and she contracted there a sort of 
mistrust that for a long time nothing could cure. She 
believed that it was equally difficult to love and im- 
, possible to be loved. She was not mistaken then, when 
she said to the count, that he had brought a new life to 
her. 

This new life, so perfect, had for them all the graces, 
all the flowers, and all the perfumes of the spring-time 
and the youth of love. Christine was so happy that she 
soon pardoned the past. Was it not he who made the 


io6 


CHRISTINE. 


present so beautiful? and what an acknowledgment 
for George ! He did not love, be adored ! Few 
women have ever known such profound and ardent 
joys, because to no one was the endowment of self more 
complete or more generous. But so soon as the doubt 
entered her mind, it was ehanged to poignant anguish. 
She had bravely supported her grief before loving, and 
now, disarmed by love, she found herself struggling 
with life, without courage and without force. She was 
sufiPering from ill health and knew that her beauty was 
failing. ‘‘ George is right,” she thought, “ I do not 
deserve to be loved, if he loves me solely for my beauty.” 
She was mistaken, she was handsome still, and George 
loved her as well as ever. There had been peril in the 
house, but nothing was lost for the defense ; (only, 
Christine was too proud to defend herself. ) She did not 
know the name of her rival, but she did not doubt that 
she had one. When she saw George looking more 
grave, she believed that he’ was dissimulating, when 
she found him more affectionate, ‘Hie does what he 
can !” said she, but still she was not reassured. 

The hearts of the most honest have strange refluxes ; 
the anxiety of Christine exaggerated the evil in her 
eyes ; but the evil existed. ^Our truest and best senti- 
ments are subjected to certain inevitable crises ^natures 
the most impressionable are also the most changeablej 
George was not unlike these ; but, perhaps unknown 
to himself he was beginning to detach himself a little. 
One does not know how love comes ; do we know any 
better how it goes ? Christine had been able to re- 
tain her lover ; but for her, J was it not the greatest 
source of unhappiness that she Avas obliged to exercise 
any influence to retain him ? ' 


CHRISTINE. 


107 


Tlie Baron de Yendel observed her with anxiety, 
certain that she was suffering ; but his suffering was as 
discreet as it was delicate. lie never mentioned any 
name. He was a man to .hide the truth and Christine 
was not the woman to demand it. 

George on his side was not any more calm. In 
place of this happiness, recently so complete, and whicli 
now seemed to be rapidly passing away from him, 
what had he found? In place of a devoted woman, 
not wishing, not knowing anything but how to love, 
he had before him a coquette, accustomed to all the 
artifices of the world, with a hard hand, and full of 
cold and calculating artifice. Hadeje had perfectly 
understood him. She readily divined what there was 
in his character of indecision and feebleness, and she 
studied to encourage it and to discourage it by turns. 
She was capricious with him ; he never knew how he 
would be received. After several days of a growing 
intimacy, for him full of charms, she abruptly changed 
her manner towards him and discontinued those little 
attentions of which she had been so prodigal before, 
and which had so gratefully tickled the vanity of the man 
of the world. She was constantly surrounded by a bevy 
of young beaux, whom she played off against the count. 
Then, at the moment when he seemed to be vanquished 
and about to fly, she made a hecatomb of them and 
appeared to have regard for no one but him, A woman 
who really loves is incapable of these little miserable 
calculations ; but is the woman who loves always the 
woman who is loved ? 

Between the count and the countess the abyss was 
widening every day. Hothing seemed changed at first 
view. Every day he went to see her ; he had always 


io8 


CHRISTINE. 


the same care for her, and he was received by her with 
the same politeness. He appeared to be even more at- 
tentive ; and she seemed to be more appreciative ; but 
he experienced a sort of constraint ; and slie, in talking 
with him, felt sometimes as though her tears were pen- 
etrating her voice. She never complained ; she waited 
in sadness the return of his love, desiring it always, 
hoping for it sometimes, doubting it oftener, but not 
willing to hurry it by a word. George found himself 
embarrassed between these two women. If any one 
had spoken to him of his quitting Christine, he would 
have been sincerely indignant. But he expected to 
carry on at the same time, an affair of the head and an 
affair of the heart ; or rather, without rendering too 
close an account to himself, he yielded by turns to di- 
verse attractions. His was not a bad nature, and he 
had even a little less egotism than one meets with or- 
dinarily in men of his class. [ But he had not that 
force of will which makes character.^ He sometimes 
returned to good sentiments ; then he was in better 
rajp^ort with his conscience ; instinctively he compre- 
hended that the good and the true he found always in 
Christine, and in her alone ; he knew with what indul- 
gent tenderness the noble woman wouy welcome the 
return of his heart. But he found in the evening that 
Hadeje had been charming ; in order to talk with him, 
she had refused to dance one mazourka and two waltzes 
with others ; such a sacrifice merited some acknowl- 
edgment ! l^^nd thus the two-fold life, so united, so 
calm and sweet, was replaced by degrees by this three- 
fold life, troubled with remorse and agitated with pain- 
ful anxieties. ] These bitter and rude experiences are 
less rare than one thinks, even in those liaisons which 


CHRISTINE. 


109 


Lave preserved all the liberty of choice ; and it will be 
found that the legal bond, so much calumniated, has 
not the exclusive privilege of forming badly-assorted 
marriages. 

Christine resolved to retire within herself a little 
more. With her beauty, her wit, and that charm which 
she always had for the eyes of the count, she was still 
able to dazzle him ; to bring him back and to captivate 
him. I^he disdained to do what so many others wmuld 
have sought to do. |^he wished to respect George for 
himself It was a pride like any other — only, perhaps, 
a^greater one. 

The name of Hadeje was finally mentioned in Mine, 
de Rudden’s presence by a lady-friend, with a charita- 
ble intention, and accompanied with all sorts of com- 
mentaries, about which it was not possible for her to 
be mistaken. 

Christine did not wish to see her rival ; not but what at 
the bottom of her heart she might not have experienced 
a bitter and ardent desire to know the woman who had 
taken happiness away from her ; but she thought that 
in meeting her, there might come a struggle, which 
she judged would be little worthy of George or of 
herself. There was in such a course of conduct an in- 
contestable nobleness of heart, and with a man more 
firm than M. de Simaine, the countess would have 
been right. But she w'as perhaps wrong with George, 
whom she must now suspect of involuntary weak- 
nesses, and whom it was necessary to save from himself 
in saving him for herself. 


no 


CHRISTINE. 


CHAPTEE XII. 

X 

A WOLF HUNT ON LAKE M^LAR — DESPERATION OF THE WOLVES 

— A RUN -AWAY — A DECLARATION OF LOVE — THE RETURN. 

Towards the end of January, Count de Lovendall, 
one of the greatest sportsmen of Sweden, brought his 
equipages from the North to Stockholm, and announced 
that he would give a hunt on Lake Mselar. The cold 
was intense, and hunger drove the wolves out from the 
woods. They came in little groups, and marauded in 
the suburbs of the city, and the peasants complained, 
and appealed to the huntsmen to come to their aid. 
The count sent out a large number of invitations, 
which were eagerly accepted. Idle society is every- 
where tlie same, and it seizes with avidity upon all 
occasions to divert itself. There are so few people who 
are sufficient unto themselves, that they all seek amuse- 
ment outside of themselves. Women were not less 
assiduous in it than men. They organized sledge par- 
ties ; they arranged cavalcades. Stockholm took on 
an air of fete, at once gallant and warlike. The Swe- 
dish ladies, nervous and hardy, excellent in all bodily 
exercises, are especially good horsewomen. One might 
easily, without going out of the fashionable world, raise 
among them a squadron of amazons. So, when to- 
wards ten o’clock in the morning, the hunters, disembo- 
guing by the Place du PiddarJtolin^ appeared on the 
borders of the frozen lake, the Mselar presented at once 
a most brilliant and most animated scene. The out- 
riders of the count, in gala livery, led the small troupe 


CHRISTINE. 


Ill 


towards the islands, covered with woods, where the 
wood-choppers had left their broken boughs. The offi- 
cers, in bedizening uniforms, escorted the women in 
sledges ; the red coats of the hunters glared on the 
black cloth of the long robes de cJieval. The snow 
flew from under the steel runners of the sledges, and 
sometimes, driven by the wind, would envelope the en- 
tire party in a white whirlwind. From time to time, 
a joyous flourish of music would be heard ; then all 
was suddenly silent, as if the sounds were frozen in their 
brass instruments. The chorus of sonorous laughs and 
of joyous prattle had its turn. The wolves were soon 
made aware of their danger, but fortunately a detach- 
ment of out-riders watched them in the islands. How- 
ever when they approached the thickets. Count de Lov- 
endall commanded silence in the ranks. 

Christine determined to join the party ; she had been 
a long time shut up in lier house and her friends per- 
suaded her that exercise and fresh air would do her 
good. She believed them. At first she wanted to go 
on horseback, but it was feared that the fatigue of a 
long day would be too great and she resigned herself 
to a sledge. Her pony team was always marvelously 
well kept, and her driver managed his little horses 
four-in-hand, with great skill. The Count Lovendall 
passing near her, said, quite low in her ear, that she 
was the queen of his fete and that the other ladies 
were only the dames of her suite. George, the Cheva- 
lier de Yalborg and the Baron de Yendel, all consum- 
mate horsemen, surrounded her sledge. JSladeje on a 
beautiful black horse made an ostentatious show in the 
centre of a group of young men. The beautiful Rus- 
sian rode with more audacity than true elegance ; she 


II2 


CHRISTINE. 


was too exacting with her horse, and it was easily seen 
that she had la main dure. The horse plunged about with 
her, champed his bit and covered his breast with foam. 

One who. has known women, as well, at least, 
as it is possible to know them, affirmed that he did 
not like amazons. He insisted that the habit of 
riding on horseback gives them a hardy decision, of 
which the results are almost always unpleasant ; that 
they readily contract, in this violent exercise, a dan- 
gerous taste for domination, and that the use of the 
whip singularly compromises the amiable douceur 
which is their greatest charm. There is perhaps a 
little exaggeration in this idea,, as there is in all absolute 
opinions, but there is truth in it; everything is an 
index f6r one who has eyes, and the fashion of a woman 
mounting her horse, is perhaps a revelation of her 
character to an attentive observer. 

Christine, when she saw Hadeje pass her, (she knew 
her rival now,) thought her.to be imperious and haughty. 
‘‘ My poor dear George,” thought she, I am sorry for 
him if he truly loves her, for she will never make him 
happy. She is handsome, but she is not good, and so 
many things are necessary for happiness ! everything 
which I have not, without doubt.” 

Hadeje passed by the sledge. George saluted her ; 
she smiled and returned the salute with the end of her 
whip, then she kissed her hand to him and rode off sur- 
rounded by her troop of admirers. Christine threw 
a rapid glance at the count. It was not Hadeje that he 
was looking at, it was herself. She saw in his eyes an 
expression of thoughtful melancholy and of profound 
tenderness. ‘‘My God!” she said, “can he love me 
still ?” and she felt quite consoled. 


CHRISTINE. 


II3 

“ Au galop P’ she cried to her driver, and he drove 
more rapidly. The four ponies hounded over the vast 
plain so furiously that he had great difficulty to keep 
command of them, and Christine filled and refilled her 
lungs with an atmosphere which seemed to rejuvenate 
her. 

- • It was a cold and somewhat gloomy day, for it was 

without sun, and the sun is here the latest gayety of 
winter. From time to time a squall passed over the 
trees, moaning and shaking down the snow which fell 
on the sledges in light fiakes, which looked like large 
drops of white rain. 

The wolves had taken refuge in a sort of archipelago, 
whose islands were separated by narrow intervals of 
snow and ice. When the cold is so intense and the 
snow so deep, the wolves are more shy, and are careful 
not to expose themselves, and it is not easy to get them 
out into the open fields. The hunters, followed by the 
rest of the company had formed a circle around all the 
islands, sending their large dogs on in advance, and 
they now heard the sonorous ring of their voices in 
the distance. Then as the wolves were driven into 
their retreat towards the centre, their circle by degrees 
narrowing, they arrived finally at the farthermost island 
whose dense thickets afforded them good shelter. 
The dogs pursued their prey bravely, supported by 
the whippers-in, and followed by the more intrepid 
hunters. Cut off on all .sides, and driven into their 
last asylum, the vrolves made a desperate attack on 
the dogs ; but after some minutes of energetic fight- 
ing, seeing with the eye of instinct which nature 
gives the savage beast, that the fight was unequal, 
and success impossible ; they thought only of flight, 


CHRISTINE. 


1 14 

and they suddenly debouched, their tusks spark- 
ling, their hair bristling, their eyeballs glaring with 
fire. Harassed by the bloodhounds, decimated by the 
discharges from the guns, discoloring the snow with their 
blood, they rushed for their holes, like a volley of 
bullets. It was a moment of indescribable disorder; 
the sledges having approached too near, reined back 
one upon another, the women shrieked, the horses 
plunged about wildly, the dogs disemboweled, with their 
entrails exposed, raised their dying heads with the most 
plaintive howls. An old wolf, nearly white, veritable 
chief of the troupe, came up and fell at the feet of 
Christine’s horses, giving voice to the most unearthly 
noises. The two ponies on the lead trembled in every 
limb, and falling back got entangled in their traces 
and frightening the two behind them, the driver was 
unable any longer to control them. The sledge was 
driven against a stump hidden by the snow, and seemed 
about to upset. Christine pale with fright uttered a 
loud cry and put her handkerchief to her mouth to 
stifle the name of the count, which was escaping from 
her lips. But it was not the count who responded. 

The Baron de Yendel immediately dismounted and 
throwing his bridle to his groom, seized the rampant 
horses by their reins and quieted them. 

Where was the count ? 

After the tumult of the first disorder, all the party, 
headed by the Count de Lovendall, who sounded the 
hien lancer as loudly as he could, followed the dogs and 
giving chase to the wolves drove them towards the city. 

Hadeje was mounted on a Ukraine charger belonging 
to the embassy — well enough broken, but young and 
irritable. Since the beginning of the hunt, she had tor- 


CHRISTINE. 


II5 

merited liim without ceasing. He behaved himself tol- 
erably well so long as he was surrounded by others, but 
at the moment the sauve qui jpeut became general, 
aroused by the noise and rush, maltreated by his mis- 
tress, excited by the flourish of the trumpets, frightened 
by the howling of the wolves, he tried to profit by the 
disorder, to disembarrass himself of his unwelcome bur- 
den. Hadeje resisted very well his first attempts ; she 
was naturally valiant, and besides, she was sustained by 
her womanly amour projpre, which she felt was in ques- 
tion. But, as the horse was evidently becoming the 
master of the situation, the count rode up and cried out 
to her : 

Give me your hand !” 

She obeyed, instinctively; but, in giving him her 
hand, she struck the furious animal a final blow with 
her whip as a sort of bravado, and the horse, smarting 
wdth his hurt, rushed through the bushes ; and freed from 
all his fetters, and held only by a feeble hand, he set out 
upon a wild gallop across the plain, carrying Haddje 
helpless upon his back, as Hessus the centaur once car- 
ried the beautiful and trembling Dejanire. 

The young girl had time only to throw a look of 
anguish towards the count, and to say her prayers. 
This was at the same moment that Christine, not less 
frightened, cried to him for help. He saw the one but 
did not hear the other, in all probability ; for he imme- 
diately put spurs to his horse and followed the beautiful 
Eussian. Hadeje by degrees, however, recovered her 
composure and her seat in the saddle. The children 
of the steppes drink in the free air ; and, when they see 
the white plains and the vast extent of space unrolling 
under their feet, they forget the chase, and surrender 


ii6 


CHRISTINE. 


themselves to the career for the pleasure they derive 
from it — intoxicated with its velocity, and carried away 
with the excitement it produces. She bent forward, 
sitting her horse steadily, firm in her saddle, and hold- 
ing her bridle with her two hands, tried to direct 
the steps of the animal under her, if she could not en- 
tirely master him. 

George’s horse had not the same blood, nor was he of 
the same race ; and, though he was pitilessly spurred 
on by his rider, he lost ground every minute. 

]^o one else took any note of it ; in the crowd, no 
one thinks but of himself. The chase turned all their 
heads; and they were, just now, much more occupied 
with wolves tlian with women. The sledges were flying 
over the snow in the train of the cavaliers. One poor 
creature alone forgot every thing around her. 

Standing nearly erect in her sledge, her nostrils ex- 
panded and trembling, her pocket handkerchief in her 
teeth that she might breathe more freely, her eye petri- 
fied, her face pale, and with death in her soul ; Christine 
looked on from a distance at the desperate race of George 
and J^adeje. She did not lose a single incident. Her 
eye contracting, like that of the eagle, pierced the dis- 
tance, and rendered an account of the least detail with 
marvelous lucidity. She saw the efibrts of one to 
slacken her course, and those of the other to precipitate 
his ; but she could not foresee what would be the re- 
sult of this struggle, and a terrible anxiety oppressed 
her. 

The wind suddenly changed to the north and filled 
the eyes of the black horse with fine, penetrating snow. 
He stopped a moment, and seeing a thick whirlwind of 
it approaching, he pirouetted by a rapid demi volte, and 


CHRISTINE. 


II7 

changing quickly his direction, turned round upon him- 
self, as if he was about to describe a great circle whereof 
George was the centre. 

The cavalier watching all his movements took an 
oblique course and soon came up to them. Nadeje 
then gathered up all her energies, and throwing herself 
back, loosening one rein and tightening the other, she 
drew her horse on one side — and he, seeing another 
horse standing still, finally stopped himself. 

While the danger lasted, Nadeje struggled with it 
courageously. But her strength was exhausted, and fi- 
nally it abandoned her altogether, and she dropped her 
bridle. George had only time to reach her and receive 
her fainting in his arms. The excitement had painted 
her cheeks in the most lively colors ; but, as soon as 
that was over, the blood rushed back to her heart and 
she became as pale as the snow, whose white carpet cov- 
ered the earth. Her discolored lips uttered no sound 
and her eyes were sightless. But seen in this condition, 
and through the poesy of danger, she was, perhaps, 
more captivating still. She had lost her hat, and her 
long hair was undone ; it trembled on her neck like the 
wings of a black swan, and it inundated the head and 
the shoulders of the young man. He took her up as 
if she had been an infant, and her supple and charming 
body was abandoned to his embrace. He held her a 
moment in his arms until he felt the beat of her 
reanimated heart, then he laid her down carefully upon 
the snow- He had nothing to warm her with. He 
threw himself upon his knees before her ; and, taking 
her two almost frozen hands, placed them on his breast 
under his coat. After a time, the warmth seemed to 
penetrate her by degrees, a rosy tint appeared on her 


Ii8 


CHRISTINE. 


cheeks, her lips moved as if she were about to speak, 
hut no words were distinguished. George called to her 
in a low voice, as if he feared to awaken her from a 
beautiful dream: “ISTadeje! Nadeje ! it is I ! Fear 
nothing ! Come back to us, Nadeje ; dear E^adeje ! ” 

FTadeje slowly and sweetly, and, with the grace and the 
languor of a dying gazelle, raised her eyelids. Instead 
of a look, it was a tear which escaped them. “ Oh ! 1 
was happy ! ” she cried ; I thought I was dying ! ” 
and seeing her hair undone and in disorder, she at- 
tempted to arrange it. “ I can not !” she murmured 
with a faint smile, letting her arms fall. 

George was still on his knees before her; he had 
drawn off his gloves, and was holding her icy hands in 
his own : — 

Saved! saved by you!” cried JSTaddje, suddenly, 
looking at him with an emphasis of passionate ac- 
knowledgment. “ Oh, I shall love life, now that I 
owe it to you !” 

A small fichu, which she wore on her neck, became 
detached, and George replaced it. IS’adeje took his 
hand, and with brusque gesture kissed it ; then she put 
it away, blushed, and as if vanquished by the instinct 
of modesty, buried her head in her two hands. George 
separated them with difficulty, and found that her face 
was bathed in tears. 

Christine was forgotten ! 

‘‘ You love me, then he cried, folding her in his 
arms. 

“ He asks me !” she murmured, with the voice of an 
angel. 

They exchanged a thousand promises and a thousand 
oaths ^ in a single kiss. Hadeje was the first to disen- 


CHRISTINE. 


II9 

gage lierself from the embrace, which she did. with 
more vivacity than would naturally attend the senti- 
jaental languor in which she appeared to he plunged. 
George, surprised, raised his eye. The eye of ]!^adeje 
was fixed, and her extended hand pointed towards 
Stockholm. 

‘‘Oh, that woman!” she murmured, wildly; “she 
comes to take you away from me. She must not 1” and 
she leaned her head upon George’s breast. 

He aroused himself, and perceived in the distance a 
little black point, immovable at first, but growing 
larger as it approached ; then it became more and 
more distinct. It was Christine’s sledge 1 

The countess, as we have already said, followed the 
chase at some distance ; she came late upon the scene, 
but she lost none of the vicissitudes of the course. 
"With her eye and with her thought, she had watched 
the fiight of Hadeje, and the pursuit of the count. 
When she saw them running, and at a distance from 
each other, she had only experienced a vague inquie- 
tude ; when she perceived that they had stopped, and 
were together again, the inquietude became a real fear, 
and very soon a poignant anguish. The race, the air, 
the crowd, the animation of the chase, the thousand 
joyous noises ; the sound of the trumpets heard at in- 
tervals ; all these excited her nerves, troubled her blood, 
exalted her imagination, and she took one of those vio- 
lent parts, which, in her calmer moments, she would 
have repulsed as unworthy of her. She had only one 
idea ; and that was to separate them ; to interrupt 
their tete-d-tete, to overpower them by her presence, 
and recover George. 

Christine was prompt in execution. But notwith- 


120 


CHRISTINE. 


standing the Itrely emotion, slie had that possession of 
herself, at least, objectively, which never abandons 
a woman of the world. She slackened her pace, and 
the major and Axel imitated her. 

I am afraid,” said she to tlie chevalier, that some 
misfortune has happened to Mile. Borgilofl*. A mo- 
ment ago they were (she would not pronounce the 
count’s name), they were at the top of that little bunch 
of willows ; I saw them running still farther. Now I 
see them no longer ! Yes ; there ! there ! a brown 
spot on the snow ! If it be they ; they have stopped ; 
perhaps an accident ; it would not be human to leave 
a poor young girl, wounded, to freeze on the lake. I 
am not acquainted with Mile. Borgiloff, but there are 
duties one woman owes to another. I will offer her a 
place in my sledge. Come on. Messieurs ! "Who loves 
me will follow me !” 

All this was said with the ease and exquisite grace 
natural to h^’. The chevalier, however, could not con- 
trol the astonishment which his look betrayed. M. de 
Yendel had already given directions to the driver, and 
all together set out on a gallop in the direction of the 
little group. The whip gave wings to the sledge, and 
it was with difficulty that the major and the chevalier, al- 
though both were well mounted, could keep pace with it. 

In a few minutes, which seemed centuries to the im- 
patient Christine, they arrived in the vicinity of the 
fugitives. The countess leaned out of her sledge, but 
the two horses stood between her vision and its object, 
hindering her view. Over their heads a flock of crows 
was careering, croaking dismally ; their mobile shad- 
ows making spots on the snow. One would have 
thought that they scented prey. 


CHRISTINE. 


I2I 


There must have been a misfortune !” thought 
Christine ; who felt goodness enter her heart so soon 
as bitter anxiety gave place to it. 

They soon arrived at the spot. George was holding 
the two horses by their bridles ; who, champing their 
bits, were restive at the approach of the others. 

“Where is Mile. Borgiloff inquired Christine. 

^Tadeje came forward, and stood before the countess. 

“ A thousand thanks, countess,” she said, saluting 
her ; “ it is nothing ; a little fatigue ; an excitement ; 
but the danger was great. M. de Simaine has saved 
my life.” 

These few last words entered Christine’s heart like a 
poniard, and the count knew that she was suffering. 
“Mademoiselle exaggerates,” said he, recovering his 
calmness ; “ her horse was running away ; my only 
interference was to stop him by seizing his bridle.” 

“ At the moment in which I had abandoned it !” 
said ISTad^je, closing her eyes, as if the peril she had 
been in was still before her. 

The countess looked from one to the other, mutely 
interrogating them for the truth. The count was very 
pale, and his eye seemed to avoid that of Christine. 
The face of ITadeje, on the contrary, wore the ani- 
mated tint which the incarnation of happiness alone 
gives. She looked her twenty years. A moment after 
she assumed an air of naive awkwardness, and lowered 
her eyes, as if she were afraid of allowing too many 
things to be seen there. 

They did not attempt to recover her hat, for it had 
been driven by the wind far away over the steppe ; but 
they could not allow her to ride with tliree gentlemen 
with her head uncovered. 

6 


122 


CHRISTINE. 


Christine oifered her a seat in the sledge by her side, 
which she accepted. She next covered her with furs, 
and with her own hand put a red silk handkerchief, 
which she found in the pocket of her pelisse, over the 
young girl’s head, turban-fashion. It gave her the a]3- 
pearance of a piquant sovhrette by the side of a great 
lady — but the souhrette was only twenty years old ! 

They took the way to Stockholm, talking like old 
friends. The count, in Christine’s presence, soon al- 
lowed his foolish exaltation to disappear. He became 
grave and sad ; all because of this great affliction, so 
little merited, which he knew he had brought upon 
the countess. He was able to read the countess’s face, 
as we would read a book whose familiar pages we have 
many times turned. He knew the energy and the 
suddenness of her impressions, and he knew what se- 
cret, but violent rebounds, stifled in her heart, changed 
completely her pure and serene physiognomy. A blu- 
ish circle surrounded her eyes, and over her hands, ner- 
vous chills were running. From time to time she 
looked at Hadeje ; If he loves her,” thought she, “ I 
must love her also ; if I can.” Once or twice she 
looked at George, who was riding near the chevalier, 
by the side of the sledge. He tormented his horse 
mechanically; all his movements were in jerks and 
nervous. The thoughts which were running rapidly 
through his brain were reflected on his mobile physi- 
ognomy. He was discontented with himself; and re- 
proached himself with having been in so much haste 
to become engaged to Hadeje ; he saw the ridiculous 
position of Christine, riding in her own sledge, with 
her rival by her side, and he was angry with her for 
making such a spectacle on the public highway. Then 


CHRISTINE. 123 

the souvenirs of the past came to him, and he remem- 
bered the inexhaustible goodness of Christine, her ex- 
quisite delicacy, her profound tenderness, her boundless 
devotion, and he began to comprehend at what prico 
he had sacrificed the treasures of such a love. Chris- 
tine looked at him by accident in one of those moments 
in which he appeared to be himself, and she compre- 
hended what was passing in his troubled heart ; she 
understood the struggle, and with that insensible mis- 
trust, of which a year of happiness had not been able 
to cure her, said : “ He is drawn to her invincibly ; 
and how good he is ; he retreats from my side full of 
regret that he is making me unhappy ; full of tenderness 
still, of pity and of compassion ; he perhaps sacrifices 
himself ! That I do not desire.” 


CHAPTEK XIII. 

THE BALL AFTER THE HUNT — THE SUPPER — THE DANCE — 
CORRESPONDENCE. 

The Count de Lovendall was fond of making his 
fetes complete, and in the evening he gave a ball to 
those who had participated in the amusement of the 
morning. The excitement was great and pleasure 
reigned everywhere. The men talked about Hadeje, 
the women stared at George ; he needed only to pose 
himself as hero of romance, but he had too much tact 
to do it ; besides, the state of his mind did not permit 
him to play any part, whatever it might be. He no 
longer had any wish of his own, he allowed himself to 


124 


CHRISTINE. 


be controlled by events, alternating between fears and 
desires, hopes and remorse, with a troubled heart and un- 
steady mind, no longer distinguishing duty and not know- 
ing where to look for happiness ; fatally condemned, 
do what he would to deceive one woman, and doing 
that, he necessarily deceived them both ; he abandoned 
his life to fortune and left to hazard the care of regulat- 
ing his conduct. The emotions of the day which had 
so violently excited him, seemed to have relaxed his 
nerves in pacifying them. He went into the saloons 
of the count without knowing what he might do there. 
Christine was not there and he was tempted to rejoice 
at it, which was certainly a bad enough thought. It is 
true that if Hadeje had been absent, he would not have 
been any less pleased ; what he feared above all was to 
see them both there together. However, as Hadeje 
was there, it was impossible for him not to go to her to 
inquire after her health. She was very pale and did not 
seem to be entirely restored. She did not wear this 
evening, her habitual air, that icy maintien of skeptical 
indifference, which more than once had wounded the 
susceptibilities of the count, and irritated his pride. 
She appeared on the contrary, pensive and as if she 
were patiently meditating on her great happiness in 
prospect. She received the count with a mixture 
of amorous timidity, and of unaffected acknoweldg- 
ment, and called him her saviour. He seated himself 
near her, but she soon perceived that he was sad. 
Skillful enough not to appear to notice a condition of 
things which she comprehended too well not to fear, 
she contrived to avoid it ; then by degrees, cautiously 
managed transitions and transparent allusions, she led 
him towards subjects less dangerous for her. George 


CHRISTINE. 


125 


listened, perhaps at first, with indifference, then un- 
known to himself driven on by the magnetic charm with 
which every young and handsome woman knows how 
to persuade her lover, he gave himself up entirely to 
it. 

Before his eyes, confused images were passing, burn- 
ing souvenirs of the morning were rekindled in his 
mind, he again saw the young girl seated on the snow, 
very near to him, trembling, almost in his arms, her 
hands in his, and, so to say, reanimated by his breath. 
He still felt the kiss on his lips with which they had 
exchanged their oaths of love and fidelity. He looked 
at her and thought her more beautiful than ever ; he 
compared her uncovered shoulders to all the various 
degrees of whiteness which have furnished metaphors 
to the poets, to the fur of the ermine, to the down of 
the swan, to the jasmine and to the camellias, to the 
albatross and to the marble of Paros, to the lily which 
opens its silver chalice and to the hawthorn in fiower 

and he thought also of what had happened some 

hours before, when they were both away off by them- 
selves, almost lost in the immense space ; of Christine’s 
coming and interrupting this winter-morning dream. 
He asked nothing better than to continue as they were 
now ; and Hadeje’s eyes did not say no. 

The folding-doors opened and Mme. de Kudden was 
announced. 

Christine had comprehended that the future of her 
heart was to be made a plaything of this evening. 
There are decisive hours in one’s lifetime. It pro- 
duced on her, at the last moment, a rapid reaction. 
She shook off her languor and determined to see her 
rival face to face. So, after having declared that she 


126 


CHRISTINE. 


would not go to the ball, she dressed herself at the last 
moment and demanded her carriage. 

1^0 one dressed in better taste than she ; her toilette 
was a chef dJ oeuvre^ and when she entered the saloon a 
movement of admiration turned all eyes towards her ; 
her dress seemed to caress her body rather than to 
cover it ; her uncovered shoulders disclosed a well- 
turned neck and in the fair and warm brilliancy of 
its radiance, it shone under the transparent undulations 
of gauze, from which her head seemed to disengage 
itself, as a star shoots its rays through a silver cloud. 
For the first time she had arranged her hair — 
ordinarily too chastely plaited on her temples — around 
her forehead, and light, aerial and animated with life, 
it trembled and illuminated with rich reflets d’or^ her 
large and beautiful temples with their net-work of blue 
veins. 

In looking at her one would have said that she was 
a young queen come to lay down her crown. She 
passed by the side of the count ; saw him but did not 
turn. She went and took a seat in the boudoir of the 
Countess de Lovendall ; a group of men followed her 
of which she became the centre ; she animated them 
all by her presence, by her words and with her charms. 
Her own friends said they did not recognize her. 
George observed her from a distance with a mixture 
of astonishment and of curiosity, of pleasure and of 
vague inquietude. FTadeje understood it and as these 
sentiments might become dangerous, she said, ‘‘ Go 
and speak to her !” with the refinement of policy of a 
Machiavelli en robe de satin. He obeyed without 
replying and mingled with the group of flatterers and 
admirers. Christine saw him and experienced a feel- 


CHRISTINE. 


127 


ing of secret joy. He found occasion to address a few 
words to lier, to which she replied as she did to every 
one else. He was not a little vexed and in his own 
mind accused of coquetry, the woman who for the year 
past had kept company with no other man than he ; 
and it was thought, even, that he murmured, quite low, 
the word ingratitude. Who can penetrate the sorrow- 
ful mind through the mask of a smiling face ? George 
returned to Hadeje and spoke to her of love, with 
anger. The air was not in accord with the song ; but 
Mile. Borgilotf was indulgent even ! By degrees he 
became excited himself, without any need of help. 
He found that Hadeje was simple and natural ; that 
she had no need of auditors, like Christine, and tliat, 
for his part he had always liked better the dialogue of 
two than the public discourse ; he hesitated and 
became confused, and after having began by not saying 
wliat he thought, he finished by thinking what he said. 
When the guests passed into the supper-room he led 
ill Hadeje. Christine on the arm of the major took a 
seat at one table and the count and Hadeje sat down to 
another. Two or three dowagers, who for twenty 
years had ceased to know any amorous sensations pre- 
pared themselves to watch the lovers. 

In Sweden, they prolong through the whole of Janu- 
ary the pacific reign of the twelfth-night kings, and 
each feast sees its favorite win the crown, by finding 
the bean in the cake. Fortune, who, of course is a 
woman, is sometimes cruelly capricious. She gave the 
bean of the first table to Christine, who crowned the 
Baron de Yendel ; and that of the second to George, 
who shared his throne with Hadcje. 


128 


CHRISTINE. 


We have done wrong to abolish this meal of supper; 
it is the gayest repast and comes off at the happiest 
moment of the day. Its place will never be filled. 
The supper of Count de Lovendall was charming. 
Wit sparkled with the foam of the wine of Ai ; the 
different groups exchanged toasts; every time they 
drank, they mingled the names of kings and queens, sa- 
luting them with acclamations and hurrahs ; mischievous 
insinuations came from every lip ; light shafts crossed 
each other like arrows which go whistling in the air, 
and all enjoyed themselves and thought there were 
excellent reasons why these reunions should never be 
discontinued. 

Mme. de Rudden heard it all ; but did not speak. The 
major made as if he did not understand it. Hadeje 
blushed, and George drank; but there were four 
troubled hearts there. 

After the supper they organized one of those prom- 
enades in the saloons — a mingling of music and of 
dancing — so celebrated in the I^Iorth, under the name 
oi Polonaises. Nowhere is the beauty ot a woman, 
or the elegance of a man displayed with greater grace 
and majesty, in a splendor more grandiose or more 
solemn. The partners approach each other slowly, with 
a step cadenced on an indolent rhythm, which gives to 
the entire body a harmonious balance ; their flexible 
figures rise and fall, undulating by turn ; it is thus that 
a troupe of white swans look swimming down a river, 
their movements hidden by the dandling waves. The 
Count de Lovendall who led the dance, had given his 
hand to Mme. de Rudden, the others following in 
couples. The cavalier offers to his partner, sometimes 
one hand and sometimes the other ; sometimes he hard- 


CHRISTINE. 


129 


Ij dares to touch the ends of the delicate fingers, and 
sometimes he imprisons them in his hand ; then, with- 
out quitting the one he has chosen, he passes from her 
right to left, and from her left to her right ; the same 
movement is repeated down the whole line, which in 
turn, to the appeals of the orchestra, hurries or slack- 
ens the measure ; then following the steps of her guide, 
she assists to form ingenious arabesques, compact, com- 
plicated, and inextricable, but correct like living alleys 
of a labyrinth which moves in such a manner that the 
animated riband, contorted in every direction, could, 
without breaking, form a thousand knots and then undo 
them. Then at a given signal, all hands part ; all the 
couples are dispersed as in a regular tumult, and each 
gentleman, in his turn, passes before his partner, puts 
his hand into hers and turns with her. 

When these exchanges brought George in front of 
Christine, they were both profoundly moved ; he ex- 
perienced a nervous irritation ; she a painful palpita- 
tion. But the ■ occasion was not propitious; society is 
not favorable to the expansion of hearts ; it binds them 
more closely and drives them back upon themselves. 
It is solitude which invites disclosures. Two gloved 
hands nearly touch each other ; but the electric fiuid 
does not gush forth ; their looks do not meet — those ex- 
citing looks, which tremble and shine through our 
: tears. 

^Explanations in love are tog^tenmseless : so soon as 
the sweet harmony of hearts is interrupted, it is quite 
probaWe that nothing will serve to re-establish i^ 
Christine knew this, and she knew also that iii these 
sad ruptures which give so dazzling a lie to the prom- 
6 * 


130 


CHRISTINE. 


ises of the eternity of human sentiments, and which, 
cause us to remember so bitterly, the nothingness and tbe 
emptiness of our hearts; it is not necessary that we 
should seek to know whence come these wrongs, or who 
is in fault. It is so rare that the temperaments of the two 
are the same ; or that they have similar tastes, when 
they no longer walk in the same path, on the same 
road they have been following together; every step 
they take beyond, separates them and removes them 
farther and farther from each other. jf^It is the first 
step that must be watched 

But of what use is it to write the sorrowful history 
of these heart-rendings, these hidden wounds whose 
blood is discharged inwardly and suffocates us ? Who, 
alas ! has not known this fatal concentration of little 
things, which become great ; these thorn-piercings of 
daily life, which, by degrees, envenom it ; these latent 
and underhand misunderstandings, which show them- 
selves and break out in sudden raptures ; while still, 
perhaps, they love each other. In love every thing is 
so easily irreparable, unless the man, through unexpect- 
ed and burning returns of passion, should break and 
melt the forming ice, or that the woman, by the devo- 
tion of her love, should disarm an annoying irritability 
in the other. 

Christine would have been able to do it, without 
doubt ; but she did not dare to. Had she been happy, 
she might have attempted it ; but she was disarmed by 
the grief she knew it would bring to George. An un- 
conquerable sadness took possession of her, and hence- 
forward incurable in her melancholy, shut up in her 
mute caprices, as in a tower ; absorbed in the regret 
for the vanished ideal, and forced back more and more 


CHRISTINE. 


I3I 

on her love and on herself; she was not capable of 
those passionate flights — sovereign inspirations of love 
in his supreme crises — whose violence disturbs two souls 
and rends one from the other. But she was at least 
ardently enough enamored to know how to die, now, for 
the sentiment which once gave her life. Like all who 
really love, no amount of sufiering could discourage her ; 
after having traversed slowly the phase of inebriation, 
she entered resolutely upon that of grief. Her love had 
been her life, and sweet or bitter, it no longer depended 
upon herself to escape from it. 

The next day after the ball, when the count called 
upon her, he was informed that she was absent : and 
he was excessively irritated. Ah, if he had seen her 
behind the window-curtain looking at him and crying ! 

CHRISTINE TO MM A. 

The day of tears has come : he loves me no longer ! I 
am sure of it ; the illusion lives no longer with me, and 
all is finished ! Do not attempt to console me, it would 
be useless ; above all, do not tell me, as all maladroit 
egotists would ; I predicted it ! Pity me ; cry with 
me ; that is all I ask ; or rather, I ask nothing ! Ah ! my 
dear, dear friend ! where are you? Pardon me ! I of- 
fend you perhaps, but you know very well, that I would 
not say anything unkind ; to you especially. But you see 
I suffer cruelly ; and I do n’t know how to suffer ; alas 1 
I have only learned it too well ! He loves me no longer ! 
Mai’a, I feel that all is finished for me in this world ! 
Oh, with what ties lie had bound me again to this life, 
which to-day he has broken ! ‘ He loves me no longer !’ 

For two days I have repeated this phrase every hour, 
every minute ; ‘ he loves me no longer !’ He has, ho^^' 


132 


CHRISTINE. 


ever, a noble heart ! He would repudiate infidelity ; 
he suffers as much as I do ; he struggles courageously, 
generously; but you know your friend, Maia; you 
know whether I am a woman to wish for this struggle 
or ever to accept a sacrifice. Oh, how one is punished 
in one’s happiness. I placed my joy in this heart 
which came to me voluntarily, and in following its 
own inclination. I repulse even the idea of a lien, 
which takes him from me with the power to restore 
him again ; the liberty of giving and taking at pleasure ; 
and now I am to reo:ret not havino; even this last con- 
solation of his assured presence. 

“How has this happened? you will inquire. How 
do I know ? Do we ever know how misfortune comes ? 
W e see it only when it does come. It is, besides, always 
the same story ; with all women it is the same thing. 
A young Eussian arrived here named Nadeje Borgiloff*; 
neither beautiful nor ugly ; rather good looking ; what 
the French call la heaute dv^diabU : only nineteen years 
old ! oh, how proud they are of their youth ! 

“ They are right, after all, since nothing can replace it, 
and with it goes every thing else. He met her some- 
where ; I do not know where ; it is not important ! 
Do you see, Maia, I was wrong, perhaps, to lead such a 
life of isolation ; I should have gone more frequently 
into society. 

“ And if I had gone there 1 Ah, your mother was 
right ; nothing can be avoided ; what is written is 
written. Fie fell desperately in love with her sudden- 
ly as he did with me; 'and there is the danger and 
the chastisement of these sudden attachments ; they go 
as suddenly as they come ; nothing precedes them ; 
nothing follows them. 




CHRISTINE. 


133 


V 

Vc- 

“ But for me, my dear, would you believe it ? I love 
; him better since I no longer have him ; not with the vul- 
gar sentiment, too common among women, who have be- 
come enamored with the impossible, and attach them- 
selves to those who care nothing for them ^but especially 
because, I saw how noble and how good he was. If you 
^ f could know how distracted he is, and how he w’ould like 
to love me still. I am obliged to admire him when ho 



wished ! This is my last consolation, and I must not 
abuse it. W ith a word I could bring him to my feet ; but 
were I to utter it, I feel I should be worthy neither of him 
nor of myself ; and then, how long would he remain there ? 
The man who is once raised, never falls to his knees 
again. Let him be free, then ; free entirely ; free with- 
out remorse ! I did not deceive you, when I said that 
I loved him dearly, and that I would not willingly be 
either a chagrin, or an obstacle to his life. I expe- 
rience now the bitter joy of the sacrifice ; this will be 
without doubt my last happiness here below ! One 
thing grieves me how^ever, I am afraid he will not be 
happy ! He told me so often, that he was so when he 
was with me ! If I were his sister, he should never 
marry this woman ; she is ambitious and cold ; I saw 
that at once ; I believe that she has no heart, except 
what she carries in her head. The count is rich ; he 
has a brilliant future ; he will take her to Paris ! Be- 
hold how marriages are made ! Do you believe, Mai’a, 
that many men are loved for themselves ? And when 
we love them thus, how do they recompense us? 
Adieu, Mai'a, even to you I w^ould not explain. Dur- 
ing tliQ short period that happiness had its enchantments 
for me, I always promised myself to be ready to meet 


134 


CHRISTINE. 


misfortune when it should come, and now I must keep 
my word ! Adieu.” 

MAIA TO CHRISTINE. 

“Foolish creature, you frighten me! Fortunately 
we have a conge and the snow is still passable for sledges. 
Expect me, for I am coming to see you. My dear 
Christine, you see a baroness at your feet ; I will place 
the baron there if you wish ; but, I conjure you, let there 
be no useless precipitation, nothing irrevocable ; nothing 
irreparable. Nothing I do you hear ? Nothing until I 
see you. Wait; it is all I ask of you for fifteen years 
of true affection. Ah, be a little unhappy and you will 
see if any one will love you. I have read your letter 
over and over again, and it always give me a chill. You 
know it, my friendship is as anxious and as much troub- 
led as if it were love. I think I was born to be 
a friend ; to be your friend ! If you do not promise 
me to be prudent, I shall appear before you as I am, in 
my furs, and without my baron. 

“ But laugh a little, poor child ; you see that I do not 
like to cry. Adieu, Christine ; I love you tenderly.” 


GEOEOE DE SIMAINE TO HENRY DE FIENNES. 

“I would give you a hundred or even a thousand 
chances ; but no, you would never guess. Throw lan- 
guage to the dogs, I like better to tell you at once ; and 
when I shall have told you, I will permit you not to 
believe it. The Countess de Eudden, this Christine 
that I have loved so dearly — who loved me too, I 
thought so at least, and so did she, T imagine — well, 
my friend, she is to be married, and not to me I She 


CHRISTINE. 


135 


has refused me ! She marries a certain Baron de Yen- 
del, a gallant man, certainly, who has made court to 
her, I will do him the justice to say, for ten years at 
least. You see that virtue is always rewarded ! I did 
not expect it, and it came upon me like a clap of thun- 
der which has not been preceded by the lightning. It 
struck me, not unto death, however; it stunned me, 
certainly, I will admit that ! It was not from her that 
I learned the news ; she does not condescend to see me. 
It is through the Chevalier de Yalborg who knows every- 
thing, that I hear it. It is public talk. 

‘‘ There has not been any good cause for this. When 
I say that, I might qualify it by saying that there has 
been perhaps a little coquetry with the young Russian 
I have spoken of. Mile. Borgilotf. I danced with her 
till two o’clock in the morning ; but matters like that hap- 
pen every day. Her horse ran away with her, and I stop- 
ped him, and saved her life. Any gendarme would 
have done as much ; and then, you see, I do not wish to 
hide anything from you. There was a twelfth-night 
cake, whose bean I gave to her. She ate it ; that was 
all ! Since this time, Christine is completely changed. 
Besides we are not, neither she nor I, people who can quar- 
rel and make up ; the first word must be the last, and 
the words need not even be pronounced. You remem- 
^ber those little white ermines of our dear Brittany; a 
stain spoils them ; so it is with our love ; and still, there 
is only a suspicion of a stain ! 

I have been traly sad, a hundred times more so 
than I can tell you. We cannot break these strong at- 
tachments in a single day without a bleeding at the heart. 
And she ! Well, I tell you that I have my fears ; I saw 
her one day in her carriage, so pale ! After that, she 


136 


CHRISTINE. 


was always pale. Finally, I went to see her ; I owed 
so much to her, Henry ; and if I had not, I should still 
have gone ! Have I not existed in the sunshine of her 
smiles for a year — a year, so short and yet so long I 
With a tear, a word, a caress, so many things are repair- 
ed ; so many wrongs are forgotten ! She would not re- 
ceive me ! I went again and they told me that she was 
no longer in Stockholm. That somewhat angered me. I 
was delirious for a day or two. I believe too, that I 
was very severe towards Hadeje, who supported it all 
with a touching resignation ; she seemed to be asking 
my pardon because I was suffering, [^his girl has a 
good heart and she really merits all that I can do for 
her. She is not rich ; she told me so, without any false 
pride or embarrassment, like a woman who does not 
know how to scheme, but wishes to make a clean breast 
of it. But have I not enough for two ^ and is it not a 
happiness to give to the one we love ^ 

‘‘ Finally, my dear Henry, three or four days of my life 
have made me comprehend the torments of the damned ! 
I did not know whether to break with Hadeje — could 
I have done it ? — or to renew with Christine— would she 
have done it ? 

went one evening into a company where I saw 
that the people looked upon me curiously. The women 
seemed to pity me. You know this mockish pity, more 
intolerable than the insults of men ! The Chevalier de 
Y alborg came up to me, and I looked him in the eyes. I 
believe, God help me ! that I could have voluntarily 
sought a quarrel. 

‘ Well, my friend,’ he said, taking me by the hand, 
‘ are you a philosopher?’ 

“ ‘ Like Chamfort,’ I replied, ‘ I swallow a mortifica- 


CHRISTINE. 137 

tion every morning ; this aids my digestion for the rest 
of the day.’ 

“ ‘ The means are heroic ; and to-day ?’ 

“ ‘ I have swallowed two.’ 

‘ That is well.’ 

“ ‘ Conclude then ; what is the matter f 

“ ‘ A marriage.’ 

“ This chilled me. ‘ What marriage, mine ? Things 
proceed rapidly.’ And on my part I felt much irritated 
against I^adeje. 

“ ‘ ISTo,’ replied the chevalier ! ‘ I wanted to speak of 
that of the countess.’ 

“ ‘ Ah, she is to be married, then V 
‘ Did you not know it V 
‘ Upon honor, no ; Avhom does she marry V 

“ ‘ M. le Baron de Yendel !’ 

‘‘ ‘ That is as it should be ! ’ I replied. ‘ I have 
nothing to hide from you, Henry; even in my hap- 
piest days I have always been a little jealous of this 
man.’ 

‘‘ The news completely upset me. She ! Christine ! 
already ! she who appeared to love me so much. How 
can we believe in women after this ! 

“ ‘ Well ;’ my executioner said to me, ‘ it seems that 
the mortification sticks in your throat.’ 

“ I thought I should not be able to contain myself. 
I felt a cloud over my eyes ; I could have strangled 
the chevalier, with pleasure. There are moments in life 
when the civilized man disappears in me, to give place 
to the savage. In these moments I feel as though I had 
the tiger’s blood in my veins. 

But I reflected that a scene of violence would be too 
scandalous for the diplomatic corps, and I answered 


I3S 


CHRISTINE. 


with my best smile, ‘that the two marriages might 
come off at the same time !’ 

“ ‘ Whose is the other V he inquired, with an aston- 
ishment, real or feigned. 

‘‘ ‘ Mine, if it would not displease you.’ 

“ ‘ With whom V 

“ ‘ With Mile. Borgiloff.’ 

“ ‘ Shall I announce it to the countess ?’ 

“ ‘ Did she charge you to announce hers to me.’ 

“ ‘ No, truly.’ 

“ ‘ Then wait ; she will receive cards from me.’ 

“ ‘ Like all the rest of the world.’ 

“ ‘ Without doubt. Will you be a witness for me ?’ 

“‘I shall be Mme. de Rudden’s ;’ he replied. We 
saluted coldly, and I turned my back upon him. 

“ The day following I made a formal demand for 
the hand of Mile. Borgiloff in marriage. It was ac- 
corded to me by her father, with a flattering empresse- 
ment. Since which time I ought to be the happiest of 
men. Nadeje is young ; she is beautiful ; she loves 
me, and I love her, also, since Christine has been jeal- 
ous of her ! I invite you to the nuptials ; they will be 
very simple ; my joy is not noisy ; besides, we are 
hastening matters ; it is necessary, at whatever price, 
to escape from false positions. 

“We shall not wait the wedding presents from Paris. 
My wife — this word seems strange to my pen, and I do 
not yet know how to write it — my wife, then, will go 
to select them afterward. Adieu. If you should ever 
have any wish to realise a romance in reality, think of 
the current chapter of my life !” 


CHRISTINE. 


139 


CHAPTEE XIY. 

GOSSIP, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 

In the same degree with which the coimt absented 
himself from Mme. de Kudden, the major frequented 
her house ; from his good heart first and foremost, and in 
order not to leave her to her isolation and her grief ; he 
had besides, undoubtedly, a secret hope of turning the 
occasion to his own benefit. With a smile Christine 
could make him happy for a week ; she smiled on him 
several times the same week. The misfortune which 
had come upon her, instead of exasperating her, only 
assisted her the better to compassionate others since in 
experiencing more, she was enabled more wisely to 
comprehend. The baron reminded her of her old 
promises. 

“ I have never promised anything.” 

“ You have not forbidden me to hope.” 

“ Have I any means to prevent it 

M. de Yendel thought he discovered in the words of 
Christine an acquiescence to his wishes, and he sur- 
rounded her with the most impressive cares. He was 
a m§in utterly incapable of an indiscretion ; but if his 
mouth were mute, his eyes were eloquent ; they talked 
of happiness. The world translated it as it always 
does, in a contrary sense ; and the Chevalier de Yal- 
borg took care to publish it with commentaries. 

Something of these stories came to the ears of the 
countess ; she did nothing to confirm them ; nothing 
to give the lie to them. She was preoccupied only 


140 


CHRISTINE. 


with the effect they would produce upon M. de Sirnaine. 
She said to herself that they would put an end to all 
manner of incertitude, which had now become intoler- 
able. If George still loved her, this violent blow, 
which she would not have given him, would lead him 
to her ; and if she were to follow the counsels of Ma'ia ! 
How, by indissoluble ties, she might bind this feeble 
heart to hers, and make him happy in spite of himself! 

[Jf, on the contrary, she was no longer loved — loved 
as she wished to be, — if George was so preoccupied 
with another, that she had already become indifferent 
to him, she would free him and give him that liberty 
which he was too noble ever to ask, but which she 
was too proud not to grant to him. ( 

Christine, in acting thus, obeyed a generous inspira- 
tion ; but she made no calculations for anger, which 
may derange the wisest plans ; or for vanity, which is 
so often discovered to be the foundation of love with 
man. She did not yet know of what violent action 
George was capable ; of what sudden and desperate 
resolutions ! 

The news of the countess’s approaching marriage 
was industriously cii’culated throughout the city. Peo- 
ple felicitated the baron, who only faintly denied it, 
because he believed in it himself. Christine did not 
show herself, and that gave color to the report. In the 
mornings, in the circle of the ambassadresses, many 
smart things were said of the count’s misfortune. He 
thought to turn the laugh to the other side, by getting 
the start of the countess in his marriage with Hadeje, 
which was at length officially announced. 

The news was brought to Christine by Yalborg, and 
it gave a mortal blow to her heart. She demanded the 


CHRISTINE. 


I4I 

details, and listened to them with feverish avidity. 
She was anxious to know if people thought the parties 
loved each other. 

‘‘ They adore each other !” replied the chevalier ; 

and it is partly my fault. Only think of it ! it was I 
who introduced the count to Mile. Borgilotf.” 

M. de Y alborg looked at the countess ; but her face 
was hidden behind a Chinese fan, and he could not see 
the heart-broken look which it wore. 

‘‘ He has not lost any time she said, continuing 
the conversation on this sorrowful subject, almost in 
spite of herself. 

And I have been the whole cause of it,’’ said the 
chevalier. 

‘‘ How is that ?” 

“ In telling him of your approaching marriage.” 

“ Ah, how did he receive the news 

“ Yery well — that is to say, very ill. I think he 
wanted to throttle me. But I pardon him cheerfully, 
poor count ; for, countess, I can very well understand 
that one cannot lose a woman like you without great 
regret ; as for me, I should never become resigned to 
it.” 

The chevalier waited to see the effect of this com- 
pliment. But she did not appear to take any notice 
of it. 

So you announced my marriage to him as a thing 
already resolved upon V* 

Positively ; it was that which decided him. His 
eye fairly flashed fire. But he soon calmed down, and 
I saw that he had taken his resolution.” 

‘U think, chevalier, that you have manifested far 
more zeal in this matter than was demanded of you.j 


142 


CHRISTINE. 


Who charged you with publishing the banns of my 



marriage 


Why, countess, it was the news of the day ; and you 
know, one always likes to tell the news. It makes con- 
versation interesting. But I should have done far bet- 
ter to listen.” 

The countess shrugged her shoulders, and inquired : 
“ When are they to be married 

It is said, on the first of March.” 

‘‘We are now at the 20th of February. It is well to 
hurry things !” 

“ And you, countess, when are you to be married ?” 

“ I^othing is yet determined upon.” 

“ How is that ?” said Yalborg, recoiling on his fau- 

teuil. “ Hothing determined upon ! But then ” 

looking earnestly at the countess — upon that face on 
which profound grief was painted — and daylight began 
to dawn upon him, and he began to suspect the truth ; 
and seizing her hand, he said : 

“ Countess, countess, pardon me ! My God, what 
have I done !” 

“ Secured the happiness of your friend, without 
doubt ; there is nothing in that to trouble you.” 

“ His happiness ! Ah, one never loves twice !” 

“ Ho ? One may love a hundred times — men, at 
least, may. Did you not say just now that they adored 
each other !” 

“ I do not know what I said,” replied Yalborg, look- 
ing for his hat. 


‘\Perhaps, then, it would be better to talk less Y the 
countess replied. ^ 

She made him no farther reproach ; and when he 
passed out of the saloon, she hid her head in her hands 
and \vept. 


CHRISTINE. 


143 


CHAPTEK XY. 

A WEDDING AND A SOUVENIR — AN UNKNOWN ORGANIST. 

The count was hurrying on his affairs to a prompt 
denouement^ and his mind w^as in a state of anxious ex- 
citement. ‘‘ Behold a man who loves his wife !” said 
the superficial observer ; /a clairvoyant eye would more 
likely have discovered the' indices of a troubled heart, 
laboring for diversion. True happiness is more calm.,* 
Xaddje was occupied wiin wedding-dresses and pres- 
ents. She did not trouble herself with the cares of 
her fia/nce. One cannot see everything at once ; she 
was looking at laces ! Perhaps George did not come 
to see her as often as he should ; but would they not 
have time enough to be together after they were mar- 
ried, since they would then be bound never to quit 
each other ? She took care to send a card to the coun- 
tess, addressed by her own hand. George knew noth- 
ing of it ; if he had,'Jhe would probably have thought 
it in doubtful taste J 

Events mature at their appointed time. George re- 
gretted, perhaps, on the morning of the first of March, 
that the year was not Leap year ; but the time for re- 
flection was past ; some hours yet, and the last word of 
his young and free life would be uttered. He had no 
friend near him ; and the thoughts which he could not 
confide to any one fell heavily upon his heart. 

Xadeje was the daughter of a Polish mother; she 
had been educated in the Catholic religion. Apostolic 


144 


CHRISTINE. 


and Roman. The nuptials must therefore take place 
in the chapel of that communion, which was near the 
convent des Dames - Frangaises ^ which served as a 
church for all the Catholic Swedes, as well as for the 
two queens. The hour was fixed at midday ; hut long 
before the time, a fashionable crowd filled the body of the 
church. All tlie strangers of distinction, and all the ele- 
gant society of Stockholm were there, minus Christine 
and the Baron de Yendel. The Chevalier de Yalborg, 
leaning against tlie large vase of red porphyry, which 
serves as a baptismal font, appeared careworn. One 
would have thought that it was his own fiancm that 
another was about to espouse. Some young men gath- 
ered around him and endeavored to make him talk, but 
he appeared disposed to be discreet, for the first time 
in his life. 

As the clock struck the hour, four or five carriages 
stopped before the church. The Swiss, in grand cos- 
tume, his sword by his side, and his halberd in his hand, 
opened the folding-doors, and the count appeared, lead- 
ing R^adeje by the hand. 

She wore her beautiful costume with a supreme ele- 
gance ; her long veil of white lace trained behind her 
like tlie mantle of a queen. She was received with a 
flattering murmur. They may have thought that for 
a young girl she showed too much assurance ; but she 
was so near to becoming a woman ! As to George, ^le 
showed the undisturbed dignity of the well-born man, 
who feels that all eyes are fixed upon him, and who 
guards his thoughts and hides his impressions from the 
world. ‘ 

An old white-haired priest soon began the ceremonies 
of the Catholic rite, in the midst of an assembly of 


CHRISTINE. 


145 


strangers, who admired, not without some astonishment, 
their grandiose poesy, and the biblical souvenirs of the 
patriarchs, mingled with the pomp of the sacrament ; 
he remembered the sweet and charming images of 
those heroines of the family, the strength and adorn- 
ment of man, the poesy of the tent, the flowers of the 
desert ; the grace of the chaste fireside ; Eebecca, Ra- 
chel, Ruth and R’aomi, fecund and blessed mothers; 
and he invoked on the heads inclined before him, the 
favors of the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob ; 
who made the race of Israel as numerous as the sands 
on the sea-shore. 

When the preacher demanded of the Count George 
de Simaine, in a loud voice, if he would take Hadeje 
Borgiloflf, present before him, for his wife and legiti- 
mate spouse — at the very moment when the Jicmce 
pronounced the fatal yes^ a sound was heard like a wail 
from the organ ; a sigh in the pipes ; an indistinct 
groan ; and George appeared to be seized with some 
involuntary trouble ; Radeje called him to himself by 
a cold and stern look ; and in her turn, she answered 
the question addressed to her in a loud and sonorous 
voice. The preaclier ascended to the altar and cele- 
brated the mass ; then, at the moment indicated in the 
liturgy, he turned towards the assembly and came 
again towards the spouses ; two acolytes lifted above 
their heads the floating folds of the symbolical veil ; 
the curtain of the organ was moved ; a prelude of a 
sweet and sad harmony threw over the assembly a 
nervous chill, and in a few moments the song burst 
forth ; a group of harmonious chords, vibrating, pathetic 
and inspired. A light aerial melody seemed to pene- 
trate the dome of the church, and to hover over the 
7 


146 


CHRISTINE. 


heads of the ravished crowd. Yery few artists, either 
in Stockholm or elsewhere, would have been able thus 
to pour out their souls through the insensible ivories. 
They listened to it ; but no one understood it. G-eorge 
alone comprehended it ; for, in. the first notes, he had 
ffecognised the song of love and melancholy that he heard 
for the first time on the boat of Skokloster, and again 
on that beautiful summer evening, when Christine had 
played it for him by the open window of her saloon, 
in her cottage at Haga. It was the song of Dalecarlie. 

“ Botli in the boundless desert lost !” 


You will play it to me often he had said to the 
countess on that memorable evening. ISTeither of them 
thought then, that she would ever play it, or that he 
would ever listen to it, under circumstances like the 
present. 

A swarm of souvenirs were suddenly raised in his 
mind, singing and beating their wings ; he recollected 
the vanished joys of the past, those profound and 
pure joys with which he had so often been inebri- 
ated ; he remembered the inextinguishable and serene 
tenderness of every hour and of every moment ; that 
indefatigable and ingenious devotion always active ; 
that delicacy of spirit, and j^rtmnance of the heart, 
visible in little things as well as in large, as if she had 
found her supreme happiness in the gift of life inces- 
santly renewed. Then he asked himself how he had 
paid these sacred debts of the heart ; he accused him- 
self of ingratitude, and said to himself that his own 
precipitation had been a WTong towards Christine, and 
a culpable one ; and if she had been in any way to 


CFIRISTINE. 


147 


blame, was not the fault his ? If she had forgotten 
that there were two sides to the question, who had fur- 
nished the example ? For the first time since he had 
taken his resolution, he was afraid. Doubt took pos- 
session of him, with its cortege of remorse and poig- 
nant bitterness. He acknowledged to himself that he 
had compromised his own happiness, and an internal 
monitor whispered to him, that he had destroyed the 
happiness of another ; and when he looked around to 
seek for remedies for his fault, the preacher, the altar, 
his bride, his conscience, all responded : It is too 

uu r 

The spouses were kneeling upon the velvet cushions, 
listening to the final prayers ; George buried his face 
in his hands, and forgot the world. The music of the 
organ, however, did not cease ; it seemed to tremble 
under the nervous attacks of the unknown artist, who 
had resumed the primitive theme, and conducted it 
through those skillful variations which are like the 
shadows of the thought and the half tints of the senti- 
ment. When the melody descends from the high 
sources of inspiration, it finds accents which move the 
heart and penetrate the soul, ‘^notion has everywhere 
the same language, and nothing resembles more a song 
of love, than a song of prayer. 1, This song, discovered 
in the depth of the woods, by some dreaming peasant, 
improved by art, became in skillful hands, the harmo- 
nious poem of ineffable tenderness, and of hidden 
griefs. 

Those who are familiar with the impassioned lan- 
guage of sounds, might have suspected the existence 
in the heart of the musician of one of those tragedies 
^vithout w’ords, of the inner life, which is perfonned 


148 


CHRISTINE. 


in the depths of the soul in its supreme moments. / 
Sometimes the melodious phrase seemed to be borne 
on a storm of burning notes; a feverish ardor pre- 
cipitated its inviting rhythm ; sometimes it was rocked 
like a breath of a sweet reverie, and its melan- 
choly seemed to smile ; but people might have asked 
of how many tears such smiles were composed. Sud- 
denly the keyboard was troubled, the interrupted 
rhythm slipped away under the fingers which had now 
lost their control ; the measure, at once abrupt and 
languishing, vacillated like a fiame in the wind. In 
the assembly they scarcely breathed. Soon the sor- 
rowing artist gathered up her dispersed forces, as if for 
a last efibrt ; she inspired with her own ardor the in- 
sensible key-board with the burning notes which es- 
caped from it, with the amorous effluvia running 
through the atmosphere. Then all at once calmness 
reigned ; the harmonious tempest was appeased ; the 
primitive phrase reappeared, sweet, naive and simple, 
like a sigh from the heart of a young girl ; and slowly 
it expired under the trembling touches, like the com- 
plaint one hushes on the lips with a kiss ! 

The ceremony was finished, and the crowd went out 
under a tumult of emotions impossible to describe. 
They had nearly forgotten- the spouses. Some young 
men were grouped around the doors of the chapel, 
waiting to see the organist : she plays,” they said, 
as Jenny Lind would have sung.” They waited in 
vain. When the Swiss came to close the doors, they 
interrogated him. He replied that he did not know 
who it was ; that the organ gallery opened into the 
convent, and that it was useless for them to wait there, 
for no one was likely to pass out. 


CHRISTINE. 


149 


CHAPTEK XYI. 

MAlA, CHRISTINE AND THE MAJOR. 

Christine, need we name her to the reader ? return- 
ed to her own house through one of the side streets 
which run along by tlie side of the vast gardens of the 
convent. She found Mai'a established in her saloon. The 
Baroness de Bjorn had arrived in Stockholm, during 
the time of the ceremony, and she had ran immediate- 
ly to the house of her friend, and not finding her, she 
had waited for her, a prey to great anxiety. Mine, de 
Budden, no longer sustained by the febrile excitement of 
the crisis, threw herself, or rather, fell, into the arms of 
the young baroness. A profound sob relieved her chest ; 
her eyes were dry, but her hands trembled, and her 
face burned on Maia’s shoulder, on which it was Ijdng. 
Maia took her head and kissed it tenderly, then pushed 
it a little away from her as if the better to contemplate 
her. She was frightened at the rapid change that suf- 
fering had produced on that once beautiful face. There 
is an age when women ought no longer to suffer ; they 
are in a state of preservation only when they are hap- 
py; the storms of misfortune despoil them, as the 
storms of the atmosphere do the last roses of autumn. 

It is not I ! ” murmured Christine ; “ you cannot 
recognise me ! ” 

Maia made her sit down near the fire, and took off 
her hat and pelisse. Christine was as helpless as a sick 
infant. Maia got upon her knees before her and warmed 
her two hands in her own. 


CHRISTINE. 


150 

Speak to me, ” slie said, suddenly ; “ you frighten 
me.” 

I frighten you ! ” Christine repeated, like an echo. 

‘^Yes, ” replied Maia ; “here it is eighteen months 
since I have seen you, and you do not even look at me ! ” 

“ I frighten you to-day ; to-morrow you will pity me.” 

“ Be silent, ” said Maia ; “ I like your silence better. 
You are revolving, I am sure, some wicked thought in 
your poor head. Swear to me that you will never .” 

“ What ? ” said Christine. Then comprehending all 
at once — “ kill myself ;” and she added, with a look 
in which might be measured the profoundness of her 
despair ; “To kill one’s self ! It is only the impatient 
who kill themselves. ’ What is the use ? Can one not 
die?” 

“ Ah ! ” replied Ma’ia ; “ you are cruel towards those 
who love you.” 

“ Those I love, have been so good to me ! ” she re- 
sponded with a wandering smile. 

“ Enough, ” said Maia, with an authoritative tone ; 
“ it is enough ; chase away the souvenir ; forget it.” 

“ Forget ! — how is that done? I never knew.” 

“ Ah ! ” replied her friend ; “ you are right, dear 
Christine; I cannot even console you. Let me cry with 
you ! ” 

Christine was seated on a large arm-chair in the cor- 
ner of the fireplace. Maia was still at her feet, with 
her head laid upon her knees. Soon Christine felt her 
hands wet with warm tears. By degrees her nerves 
were relaxed ; her sobs, a long time repressed, burst 
forth ; then her tears fiowed abundantly and she was a 
little calmed. In grief as in joy, tears are always the 
overflow of the heart. 


CHRISTINE. 


151 

Maia, under tlie ingenious pretext, that a house a 
long time uninhabited is cold and unhealthy, persuaded 
her husband to allow her to remain with Christine, that 
she might contribute to ameliorate the first effects of 
her great grief, which so often overcomes nervous or- 
ganizations. They lived thus together, nearly two 
weeks in kindly intimacy, receiving no one but the 
Chevalier Yalborg — who finally comprehended the ex- 
tent and the intensity of the mischief he had done — 
and the major, who had all the delicacy, as he had all 
the ardor, of a true love. He comprehended too well, 
the sadness of Christine not to respect it. Two days 
before the marriage he had quitted Stockholm, and he 
only returned a week after. He observed those silent 
proprieties of the heart, which no civilization insciibes 
on its puerile and honest code, but which so well be- 
come certain natures. 

The presence of Maia, rendered possible the most 
frequent assiduities on his part towards Christine. He 
essayed to divert her. Finally, assured of the support 
of the baroness, he spoke of their marriage. This word 
frightened Christine for two days ; regrets have also 
their decencies. The major thought he had been too 
hasty, and he resolved to be more patient in the future ; 
and his silence was understood. 

One morning they breakfasted together. Christine, 
who had remarked his sadness, extended her hand to 
him and said : 

“ My friend, I have a favor to ask of you ? ” 

“ Speak, dear Christine, you know it is granted in 
advance.” 

See how good he is ! ” she said, turning towards 
Maia. 


152 


CHRISTINE. 


‘‘ Yes,” said Ytaia; “ I know that he is a king among 
men ; my dear baron must take a back seat where he 
is.” 

“"Well, my friend,” Christine replied, ‘^you must 
pardon me the wrong I have done you.” 

A lively emotion was manifested on the major’s face ; 
but he did not reply. 

What do you wish to say ? ” inquired Mai’a, anx- 
iously. 

“ My friend,” said Christine ; I am not well ; my 
health is failing.” 

‘‘ I see it is ; ” said the baroness. 

‘‘ And you do not speak to me about it ! ” 

“Only because I do not know howto cure you;” 
replied Maia, shaking her head ; “ at least, at present ;” 
she added, smiling. 

“ ITeither now, nor never, I am afraid ; ” replied 
Christine. 

“ Always these foolish notions ! said Maia, shrug- 
ging her shoulders. 

We must not think to-day, then, of a marriage which 

j> 

“ Which you do not desire ; ” interrupted the major. 

“ For which my strength is unequal,” replied 

Christine. 

“ As you wish, countess ; you do not need to be told 
my sentiments ; you know them already. What you 
do is always right.” 

“ You do not lose much ; ” she replied, looking at 
her thin arms and transparent hands. 

“Each one must be the judge of his own misfor- 
tune ;” said the baron, with a sad smile. “ I do not 
grieve ; but allow me at least to think that I ought to.” 


CHRISTINE. 


153 


Ail ! ” murmured Christine ; burying her head in 
her hands ; life is a cruel game ! What noble hearts 
are lacerated ; misfortune is upon me ! My God, what 
can be done ! ” 

Everything for you, Christine ; nothing for me !” 

“ He loves me as I have loved another ! ” thought 
Christine. 

“ If you wish,” replied the major ; I will never re- 
turn.” 

“ Oh, no !” said she. Ho, remain here. You and 
Maia are now my only friends. If you leave me, I 
shall be entirely alone . . . and it is not yet time^ A 
little patience ! How, I want you to be about me. You 
will, will you not ^ 

The baron turned towards Maia without saying a 
word, and extending.her hands to them, she continued; 

‘‘My dear friends, it is I who have the right to be 
humble.” 


CHAPTEE XYII. 

THE BEGINNING OP THE END— INTEIl VIEW OP THE COUNT AND 
MATA — DEATH-BED. 

With the count the season of the honey-moon ran 
away in a sort of a fever of pleasures ; in the midst of 
fetes and of wild dissipation. Hadeje drew him after 
her ; he had no time to be unhappy. 

But at the first realization, in the interval of pleasures, 
the thought of Christine came back to him, and having 
returned, it took complete possession of him, and re- 
morse troubled all his joys. He soon discovered that 


154 


CHRISTINE. 


itTadeje was not wliat he had thought her to be, and his 
chastisement began. He supposed that lie had married 
a woman ; he found she was onlj a doll, whose whole 
life was passed in dressing and undressing. Stockholm 
was dazzled with her toilettes ; but the women who 
sport fine dresses afford more pleasure, generally, to 
others, than to their own husbands. To tell the truth, 
since he was married, George had no longer any domes- 
tic life. He experienced some moments of ennui and 
his thoughts revelled in the past. He was certain now, 
that he had made the great mistake of his life. It of- 
ten happens so in this world. ^Like all who are unhap- 
py, he became unjus^nd inverting the past, he accused 
Cln-istine of having sacrificed him ! When he was alone, 
he thought only of the many charming hours he had 
passed in her society. He soon perceived that Hadeje 
did not love him, and he suffered from it ; not in his af- 
fections, for his love had never been really awakened ; 
but in his pride, till now so adroitly flattered, and at 
last so rudely deceived. He saw clearly that ambition 
and interest had guided her choice, and he experienced 
a secret discontent, which a thousand things occurring 
every day only served to irritate. 

About many things Hadeje and he did not agree, 
and about many others, Hadeje had not even an opin- 
ion. When a point of bitterness between them became 
the occasion of a quarrel, [George thought of that pro- 
found sympathy between Christine and himself, where 
one often finished the speech the other had begun, as if 
both had had but one thought^ He said to himself, that 
in place of being an obstacle in his life, she had been 
his strength, his counsel, and his reason. He soon be- 
came very jealous of the baron. Jealousy was the only 


CHRISTINE. 155 

feature of his love with which Christine had never been 
made acquainted. 

He was astonished that tlie marriage of the countess 
should make so little noise in Stockholm, and wondered 
why the people had not more consideration for her. In 
place of being pleased at this, it only irritated him. 
Finally he interrogated the Chevalier Yalborg, the only 
one of their mutual friends, whom he was in the habit 
of meeting; 

She is not married !” said the Chevalier; “ and if I 
can believe the Baron de Yendel ; if I can believe my- 
self, she never will marry. Ah, my dear count, you are 
a dangerous man ; this time I do not compliment you ; 
you have broken the heart of a poor woman who merit- 
ed better things from you.” 

These words of de Yalborg were, for Ge^e, the last 
ounce to break the camel’s back ! He ran immediately 
to see the countess, wild with grief. ^ ^ . 

He was told that Mine, de Rudden had gone out. He 
returned three times in two days, and at the last at- 
tempt, he tried to force the door, which a groom dared 
not to defend ; but the old valet de chambre, came ruu- 
ning up and demanded : 

“ What does Monsieur want 

‘^'Can I not see the countess ?” 

‘‘ She cannot be seen.” 

Hot even by me ?” 

The old servant looked at him without replying. 

“ Does Mme. de Rudden not receive ?” 

‘‘ Ho, Monsieur.” 

When does she receive f ’ 

“ Mme. la Comtess has not told me !” 

George returned home very sad, 


156 


CHRISTINE. 


His was a nature at once feeble and violent, and ob- 
stacles only irritated it. The woman he could not obtain 
was precisely the one he would be the most likely to 
love. TIis regrets were so mingled with remorse that 
he entered into a phase of moral torture wdiich became 
in his own eyes, the beginning of expiation. Hadeje 
perceived his sadness only to complain of it ; she even 
let fall some words of bitter recrimination, which were 
not calculated to calm the already troubled mind of the 
Count de Simaine. 

Some days subsequently he met Mme. de Bjorn ; he 
knew her slightly, and knew that she was the intimate 
friend of the countess. He went directly up to her. 
She endea vored to avoid him ; but he appeared so unhap- 
py that she had not the heart to do it. 

If you knew what I suffer,” he said. 

You are only expiating your own fault,” replied 
the baroness. 

The friend of the countess w^as nearly his own age ; 
she was a piquant blonde ; fi poet of the court had com- 
pared her eyes to two little will o’ the wisps ; they were 
so restless. Mme. de Bjorn was small, and merited the 
sobriquet she had received of petite haronne ; without 
being handsome, she was charming ; her cheeks, her 
hands, and her shoulders lodged in their dimples, little 
nests of love. She was, moreover, lively, petulant, and 
carried her heart in her hand, and her hand open. She 
did not make merchandize of truth with any one, and 
made herself feared by those she did not love. 

‘‘ I have not the honor to understand you,” said the 
count ; who knew that all bad cases were traversible ; 
“ pray explain yourself !” 

‘^Ho; it wmuld take too much time, and would be 


CHRISTINE. 157 

useless ; if your conscience does not tell you, I cannot 
enlighten you.” 

Mai'a spoke this in a tone which did not permit any 
reply. 

It is the way with you all,” she continued ; looking 
at him fixedly ; “ because you know how to make love ; 
you think that all is said and that nothing more can be 
demanded from you ; you kill a woman by your incon- 
stancies and your frivolities ; you marry one, while an- 
other is dying for you, and they have a right to com- 
plain of you !” she added with an irony much more poig- 
nant than before ; “ Ho ; i suffer. Monsieur, as you have 
caused another to suffer rTT is what must happen to 
you, if there be any justice herebelovj’ 

^‘Look at me !” cried the count, taking her hand, 
‘‘ and tell me if I am not sufficiently punished 1” 

Yes,” replied Mai’a, softening in her manner ; “ I 
see that you are unhappy, and that helps me to accord 
to you some excuse ; if I could forget what is before my 
eyes every day — Oh, if you were to witness as I do, the 
tortures of a wounded heart ! ” 

“ This is more than I can bear,” said he, jumping up ; 
“ let us go to see her, I beg of you !” 

Ho, no. I forbid it ; she is not prepared to see 
you.” 

“ As you will,” he murmured, bowing his head. 

Ma'ia was not yet disarmed ; she profited by, she 
abused, perhaps, the silence of the count’s depression ; 
and without pity — with that eloquence peculiar to vco- 
meu, and which they sometimes possess in so high a 
degree when passion speaks through them — she painted 
the love of Christine, so ardent, that, having no other 
aliment, it devoured itself ; so profoundly, devoted, that 


158 


CHRISTINE. 


to assure the happiness of others, there was no sacrifice 
she would not make, even to that of herself; a love, 
such, in a word, as a man never meets twice in his life. 
As to her marriage with the baron, it was only a fable ; 
she had never tliought of it, for she would never have 
consented to give pain to a man worthy of her esteem 
who suftered for her ; she had not absolutely repulsed 
him, because she did not wish to owe George’s love to 
a scruple, or to a remorse. 

I have loved her with all my heart,” said George. 

“We see very well that it is not so, for you have 
married another. Could she not be jealous as well as 
you ? Could she not sufier as well as you? But Mile. 
Borgiloff did not throw herself into the arms of the 
Baron de Yendel !” 

George could find no reply ; he experienced that 
species of vertigo which we sometimes have when bend- 
ing over a precipice. 

“Leave me now,” said the baroness; “ it is two 
o’clock. I must go to her.” 

“ Carry my respects to her ; my regrets,” he mur- 
mured, in a deep, supplicating voice ; he would have 
added, “ my love but he dared not. 

Some moments later she entered the countess’s house. 
Christine was extended on a sofa ; she got up as 
quick as her strength permitted her, and ran to her 
friend. 

“ You. have seen him !” she said, observino- her 
anxiety ; “ you have seen George !” 

Maia took her in her arms, kissed her, and gently re- 
seated her. 

“ If you do not keep calm, you will never learn any- 
thing.” 


CHRISTINE. 


159 


“ But you can see that I am calm,’’ said Christine ; 
hiding her trembling hands. I am very calm ; pray 
go on !” 

Maia was obliged to describe her interview with the 
count, and she took all sorts of precautions so to relate 
it, as to produce the least possible excitement in the 
bosom of her friend. 

“ 'No : everything ; tell me everything cried the 
countess ; and Maia recounted the interview with the 
most scrupulous exactitude. Once or twice it happen- 
ed, that she made use of an expression George had 
used. 

Oh, I recognise that she said, “ he used to talk 
so ; it seems to me that I hear him now ! I distinguish 
his accent and his voice j a charming voice whose sil- 
very tone .” 

Maia saw very well that she had excited her, but she 
allowed the crisis to follow its course ; hoping, even, 
for some amelioration of its violence. It was the first 
time since George’s marriage, that she had spoken with 
so much aha/ndon. 

“And,” she continued, when Maia finished her recital, 
“ he is not even happy, and I am uselessly lost !” and 
she was heard from time to time repeating to herself 
the phrase, “ he is not happy !” 

Perhaps those who have studied most carefully the 
human heart — that of woman, particularly — may pre- 
tend, that in the midst of her regrets, so intense and so 
severe, there took possession of her, unknown to herself 
■ — a secret joy, at seeing that George had not found 
with another, that happiness which he had enjoyed 
with her; that nothing had chased away her image, 
and that he still loved her. 


i6o 


CHRISTINE. 


Maia watched her attentively, and said, taking her 
burning hand in her own, ‘‘ do you wish to see him 
Throwing herself upon Maia’s neck, she replied, 
yes !” Then raising her head, she became suddenly 
pale, put her hand on her bosom, and after a moment's 
reflection continued: ‘^No, no; that cannot be; it 

must not be ! J^ot now ! at least, not yet, by and 

bye with a smile which would have made George 
wild with love and with grief. 

George had, however, given himself up devotedly 
to society ; it was necessary to him ; if only to 
avoid useless scandal. Through routs and soirees he 
dragged the matrimonial chain like a galley-slave of 
marriage. The women who did not see Cliristine any 
more, began to complain. She did not go out ; she hid 
her grief in her own heart. Maia cared for her as 
though she had been her sister. There happened two 
or three fine mornings in March. One day the sun 
penetrated her windows with its golden rays, and Maia 
throwing a pelisse of fur over the countess’s shoulders, 
said : 

Come, let us go and imbibe some fresh air ; it will 
do you good.” 

The carriage was at the door. 

“ Where shall we go ?” 

I do not know ; wherever you will ; it is all the 
same to me. Let us go to Djurgaard, for instance.” 

“ Be it so ;” said Christine. 

The carriage passed through the faubourgs along the 
basins of the port, — whose ice disturbed by the waves 
of the Baltic, was already breaking up — passed before 
the caserne of the king, and soon entered a superb 
park, strewed with villas, with chateaux, with gardens, 


CHRISTINE. 


t6i 


witli theatres in full blast, with cafes in the open air ; 
where the loungers make their Sunday fetes and come 
to rejoice during the fine evenings of summer. They 
got out near the Chateau de Eosendal (the valley of 
roses) not far from that fine porphyry cup, the largest in 
the world, whose dimensions, the English traveler 
never fails to measure with his cane. Christine was 
invigorated and could walk. 

‘‘ Let us go to the oaks ! ” said Maia. 

A long avenue of pines, laid out on undulating 
ground, led to that portion of the park where several 
avenues meet ; where a gigantic bouquet of centenarian 
oaks — projecting their strong roots between the rocky 
granite — spread their floating branches to the breeze. 
The two women traversed at a slow pace, a glade of 
close-cut grass ; but, at the moment when they were 
about to take another path, which led to a little Swiss 
chalet overlooking the sea in the distance, Christine 
suddenly stopped; she saw George coming towards 
her. 

She looked at Maia. 

I knew it !” said Mme. de Bjorn. 

The women took seats and George came up and 
stood before them a moment, immobile and mute. He 
raised his eyes, and seeing Christine so much changed, 
he was profoundly moved. 

“ I frighten you, George ! ” she said, remarking his 
emotion and turning to her friend, she continued: 
“ You see that he loves me still ! ’’ 

‘‘ Oh, always ! and more than ever,’’ he said. 

^Be silent she replied, raising her hand as if to 
lay it upon the count’s lips ; be silent ; you have no 
right to say that to me.”^ 


CHRISTINE. 


162 

“It is true,” said he ; “but I have at least the right 
to accuse myself of not having appreciated the dearest 
and most adorable of ^vomen ! ” 

“ Do not accuse yourself,” replied Christine, “ with- 
out doubt I have no right to be happy. There has 
been in my life, more than one cruel misapprehension ; 
this one has been the most cruel of all. But loyalty 
is saved at any rate ; console yourself, for now I believe 
that I love my grief.” Insensibly she was becoming ex- 
cited, and Mai’a perceiving it, said : 

“ Christine, we must go ;” and she arose. 

“Wait a minute,” said George. 

The countess said nothing, but looked at her friend. 

“ Impossible ! ” replied Maia, “ it is enough. We 
have stayed too long already.” 

“ Shall I ever see you again ? ” inquired George. 

“ I should desire it,” replied Christine ; ‘(J)nt that 
would be wrong ; you are the husband of another. I 
will be frank and true to the end, even against myself jj 
I owed this interview, perhaps, to your grief, and to our 
past more I cannot ! adieu 1 ” 

The count was in a paroxysm of violent despair. 

“ George,” said she, taking his hand ; “ spare me ; 
leave me my conscience. What will remain to me, if 
that does not ? ” 

Ma’ia was a little distance away, but she returned to 
Christine and took her arm. The countess attempted 
to rise, but her strength failed her and she resumed 
her seat, leaning her head against the trunk of an oak, 
against which they had placed their rustic seat. A 
hectic flush appeared on her cheeks, and a dry cough 
lacerated her chest. Looking at Mai'a, she began to 
grow pale, and removing the handkerchief which she 


CHRISTINE. 


163 


liad been holding to her lips — George perceived that it 
was discolored with blood. He was speechless with 
grief. Tin ally, the countess made an extraordinary 
effort, and taking Maia’s arm, she bade adieu to the 
count. 

‘^Do not follow us,” Mme. de Bjorn said to him, 
“ onr people are at the chalet and they must not see you.” 

He stood motionless in the same place, looking at 
them. Soon the two women entered a path lined with 
spice and tamarind trees, and passing an angle were 
entirely lost to his view. George remaining alone, 
buried himself in one of the most sombre copses of the 
park, and did not return home until towards evening. 
Hadeje had dined without waiting for him, and had al- 
ready gone to the house of one of her friends, where 
they were repeating a certain quadrille, called the lan- 
cers^ an old rejuvenated dance, that two coxcombs of 
Vienna had brought to Sweden. He could then enjoy 
in peace the bitter reminiscences of his sorrow, and 
savor with his tears what the English poet calls, the joy 
of grief. He respected too carefully the wishes of his 
unhappy friend, to present himself at her house ; but 
he passed before it every day, and at least saw the 
place where she lived. One morning he found the 
blinds closed ; a neighbor told him that the countess 
had left Stockholm. 

Several days subsequently he received a letter bearing 
the post-mark of Lubec. The baroness announced, that 
in consequence of constantly failing health, Christine 
had quitted Sweden to seek a more genial climate. He 
then remained three months without any news of her 
whatever, abandoned to all the tortures of uncertainty. 


164 


CHRISTINE. 


One morning M. de Simaine was busy in liis office, 
when a domestic, without livery, was ushered in. The 
man came to announce that a lady was waiting to see 
him in a carriage in a neighboring street which he 
named. George followed him, and soon found the car- 
riage. A handkerchief was waved, and tlie door open- 
ed ; he got in and the driver, without waiting for any 
further orders, whipped up his horses, and drove off. 
Through the double folds of a black veil, George recog- 
nised Maia whose blonde hair illuminated her face. He 
watched her with profound inquietude, not daring to 
interrogate her, or to utter the name which was trem- 
bling on his lips. 

“ You must see her now !” said the baroness, pressing 
his hand. 

She raised her veil and he saw that she had been crying. 

“ And Christine he inquired. 

You are going to see lier,” said Maia ; “ courage !” 

And they passed rapidly on the way to Haga ; the 
familiar route which he had so often traveled to see the 
countess in happier days. 

The foaming team passed through the gate his trem- 
bling hand had so often opened. They drove around a 
carpet of English grass, planted with bouquets of trees, 
and stopped at the foot of a ffight of steps whose balus- 
tei^ were covered with ivy and honeysuckle. It was a 
beautiful morning ; June was smiling on the amorous 
earth ; the feathered songsters were heard in all the 
trees ; the sun inundated the room with its benignant 
rays, and the fragrance of flowers was everywhere ob- 
served. 

George got down from the carriage, but it was with 
difficulty that Maia followed him. Two greyhounds, 


CHRISTINE. 


165 

favorites of Christine, guarded the upper stair. They 
recognised George, by jumping upon him and licking 
his, hands as usual. 

^low they would hate me !” thought he, “ if they 
knew me better.’/ . , ./ 

At the sound:' of the approaching caifriage, the old 
valet de chambre of the countess appeared. 

‘‘ How is she ?” inquired the baroness. 

She thinks she is better.” 

“ And you, Hiels, how are you 

‘‘ Worse.” 

Take care of yourself,” she said, and be strong 
for her, if not for yourself.” 

“ Let us go in now,” said George ; “ I cannot wait,” 
and he went towards Christine’s room. 

“ Hot there,” said Hiels, shaking his head. Here !” 
showing the way to the saloon. 

‘‘ Wait till I announce you,” said Maia, who went in 
first. 

“ He is there ; I know he is there,” said Christine ; 
“ I see him,” she continued, extending her arms towards 
the wall through which her ardent gaze seemed to pen- 
etrate. 

Oh, how she loves him yet,” murmured M. de Yen- 
del, who was seated near the window. 

The door was opened, and George came in, and go- 
ing to the sofa on which Christine was lying, fell on his 
knees before her. With her almost fleshless arms she 
embraced him, uttering his name in a voice so faint as 
hardly to be heard. George looked at her attentively, 
and was more struck with her beauty perhaps, than he 
had been on the day he first saw her. She was still 
beautiful. Her cheeks were animated with present 


i66 


CHRISTINE. 


excitement ; her eyes were illuminated with a strange 
fire, her beautiful hands which he had so often covered 
with kisses, seemed to have grown larger and thinner ; 
her fiesh looked like transparent wax, and the lightest 
pressure reddened its delicate whiteness. Her hair, un- 
tied, fell in thick waves over her shoulders, like a rivulet 
of fiuid gold. She forgot the past ; she forgot the fu- 
ture — the future which she could . only now measure by 
minutes. Life for her was concentrated in the present 
moment. But the violence of her emotions exhausted 
her ; the roses paled on her cheeks, her lips lost their 
color, her eyes lost their brightness, her head drooped, 
and she fainted. 

Mai'a took her in her arms and held smelling salts to 
her nostrils. The baron got up, and stepping up to the 
bed, pointed towards the countess, and looking at the 
count said : 

“Behold what you have done !” 

George looked, but did not reply ; anguish sculp- 
tured on his visage, the image of grief. The baron re- 
gretted his violence, and seated himself again without 
saying a word. At a sign from Christine, Maia and the 
baron left the room, and she and George were alone to- 
gether. She was the first to speak. 

“George,” said she, “my strength is failing; but I 
could not die without seeing you again.” 

“ Oh, Christine, pardon me !” he replied. 

“ What have I to pardon ? You mistook the way, 
but that was not your fault. You went where you be- 
lieved your happiness lay. Who would not have done 
the same ?” 

“ Christine, be charitable ; do not overwhelm me. I 
swear to you ” 


CHRISTINE. 167 

Swear not at all, mj friend ; I now know all. Ak, 
if you were only happy 1” 

Can one be happy who has loved you and lost you !” 
Listen to me, George ; for it is the last testament of 
y heart, that I now open to you. One day — you will 
member it — when we began to love each other, when 
received, with, oh, what profound joy, all those treas- 
ures of tenderness which you poured out at my feet, I 
promised myself that I would never be an obstacle to 
your happiness. Such an obstacle I believed myself to 

have become, the day on which you met she, 

who is to-day yonr wife. I saw your doubts ; I saw your 
combats, your resistance, your noble efforts to remain 
at my side ! and I loved you all the more for them. But 
I did not think I could make you happy any longer ; 
your desires wandered far away. I realized all there 
was in you of generous pity, of delicate tenderness, of 
chivalric devotion ; enough to make the happiness of 
ten others. It was not enough for me, George ; and 
here is my fault. I have sinned from pride, but this 
pride was love still; I wished to give, not to re- 
ceive. I violently broke the ties you would not have 
loosened. I accepted the appearance of a wrong — and 
you were free !” 

So you love me still 

“ Ah ! I am dying of it, and can you ask me !” 

“ And I, Christine ; my head alone has wandered ; 
never my heart. I have always loved you. . . I 

love you — — ” 

“ Be silent ! I beg of you ; would you render death 
impossible to me V’ 

“ Death, for you, never ! it shall never come to you 1” 
And Had^je,” she murmured. 


CHRISTINE. 


1 68 

Nadeje ? who is I^adeje ? I do not know her ; I 
will never see her again !” 

And where is duty she inquired, raising herself 
upon her elbow ; where is duty ? — a great word and a 
great thing-^which thy poor dying friend supplicates 
you never to forget. The time is no longer when we are 
both free ! Oh, those happy days ! How rapidly they 
passed ! Do you remember those happy days ? Before 
the sun leaves this window, George, I shall live no long- 
er, except in your heart.” 

She spoke with so firm a conviction, and with so pro- 
found an accent of truth, that George saw very well 
that she could not be mistaken. He stified his sobs in 
order not to trouble the serenity of her last moments ; 
but his tears fiowed freely. 

‘‘ Why do you cry she inquired ; “ do you not know 
that we shall meet again ?” 

‘‘ Yes ; and very soon.” 

Hot yet ; I will forewarn you !’’ and an inefiable 
smile lighted up her lips, which closed immediately. 

Mai’a and the baron returned, and stood immobile, 
two steps from the bed. The sun turned the angle of 
the house and his rays quitted the death-bed. 

, “ It is getting dark — I choke !” said Christine. 

Maia ran to open the window ; a robin redbreast 
was singing in the flowering laburnum under which, 
more than once, Christine had sat, while George read 
some poet or talked of love at her feet. She took the 
hands of her three friends in her own, and, in a dying 
voice murmured : 

“ My friends, my dear friends ! George ! George !” 

Her hand became rigid, and clasped George’s convul- 
sively. 


CHRISTINE. 


169 

Mai’a, kneeling before lier friend as sbe breathed her 
last, closed her eyes and lips ; and the sweetest and 
most loving creature the world ever saw, quitted it for- 
ever ! 

******** 

On the morrow the count and the baron returned to 
Haga, to pay the last duties to the memory of their 
friend. Both accompanied her remains to their final 
resting-place in the funeral-chapel of the Oxen-Stjer- 
na. 

We have loved her too well, not to love each other 
now, in memory of her,” said the major, as they stood 
over her tomb. 

George squeezed the baron’s hand ; but answered 
only with his tears. 


CHAPTER XYIII. 

CONCLUSION. 

Life at Stockholm was now no longer supportable to 
M. de Simaine. His health failed, and he fell into a 
sort of marasmus ; he was obliged to demand his recall. 
The physicians advised the air of France, and he set 
out on his return. The boat from Kiel stopped a day 
or two on its way, at Guttenburg. 

George wandered about the environs in a frame of 
mind sad enough. The morning of his departure, an acci- 
dent led him near to the cemetery, situated not far from 
the city, at the foot of a mountain, and bordered by a 


170 


CHRISTINE. 


meadow. The gate was open and he entered. The 
cemetery of Gutteiihnrg is not monumental. They do 
not build in it granite and marble palaces to the rich 
defunct, or villas of stucco, but each tomb has its tree 
and its cross. 

If you love to meditate among the tombs — if the sod 
covers one who was once near and dear to you, if it 
gratifies you to come here and commune with them, or 
to believe that you do — these cemeteries of the ISTorth, 
with their melancholy skies, their long alleys of lindens 
and of oaks, their bouquets of elms and of willows, will 
have an extreme charm for you. 

The cemetery of Guttenburg is large ; they do not 
dispute there, inch by inch, space for the last resting- 
place for the dead ; their sacred sleep is not troubled 
there ; to grief is spared all those gratuitous and shabby 
vexations which are allowed to irritate it elsewhere; 
one is not constrained even, to follow the vulgar align- 
ment of ofiicial inhumations ; they group in families. 
Sometimes a couple of friends isolate themselves in the 
shadow of a willow with its white foliage, united in 
death even, notwithstanding the words of the Master : 
‘‘ Slccine se^arat amara mors Death has never sepa- 
rated them ; and, it is in the last sleep that they await the 
last awakening, together ! 

The count gathered a tuft of white heather from one 
of the tombs, hid it in his bosom, and went away. A 
blind man, on his knees near the gate, held a little 
wooden box up to him, murmuring, Pensez aux 
marts P'^ George threw him a rixdale of silver and 
went away. The steamer sailed ; and, when towards 
evening the coast of Sweden disappeared from his view, 
he felt as though he was losing Christine again. 


CHRISTINE. 


171 

He is now in Paris. He goes into society, insensible 
alike to its joys as to its griefs. Hadeje goes often to 
tlie ball ; sbe is the queen of fashion — but, George re- 
tires early ; he 'will not dance a cotillion. 

Several women among those who are attracted by 
grief — a noble race fast vanishing away — would have 
been glad to console him, and help him to forget 
his love. He manifested towards them a cold polite- 
ness ; always listened wlien they talked to him ; but, he 
w^as always repeating to himself, Pensez aux 


END. 


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